Prometheus' Herald
by JimdeGriz
Summary: Secrets are dangerous. Some secrets will get you killed because you don't know them, some because you do. Major Samuel Gibson would dearly like to know which he's chasing before he finds out the hard way. Sent behind enemy lines to find out why the Clan Invasion has halted, his mission is complicated by the involvement of Comstar and a secret many are willing to kill to possess.
1. Chapter 1

24th January 3051

Planet: Maestu

The quiet of the forest was shattered as a pair of Battlemechs stormed into the clearing. The Clint and Javelin took up guard positions as a pair of Valkyries followed them. Without breaking radio silence, the Valkyries split up and moved into cover, taking up fire positions. There they waited, seconds turning into minutes, before a mixed lance of medium mechs joined them. The newcomers quickly split up to reinforce the light mech's perimeter and then went to ground, remaining perfectly still as only a machine could be, their camouflaged hides blending into the surrounding trees despite their great bulk. Several minutes ticked by before the silence was interrupted again as an Awesome pushed its way through the trees, leading a group of heavy mechs into the clearing. They too spread out, taking up defensive positions amongst the foliage. For ten minutes the company remained completely still. With their sensors set to passive mode and their reactors running at their lowest possible level they were as difficult to detect as 12m tall walking tanks could be. At length, the Awesome raised its right arm as if giving a halt signal. The pilot held the signal for a moment before pumping the mech's arm twice. Instantly, figures jumped up from the undergrowth and dragged aside camo netting revealing 4 makeshift repair gantries hidden among the trees, other figures pulled out crates of ammo and armour patches in readiness for the first mechs to be rotated through the repair bays.

Far away upon a neighbouring hilltop, Major Samuel Gibson watched the drill unfold through his field glasses. Satisfied with what he saw he let the glasses hang from their lanyard and turned to his companion. "I think we've got this cracked." He said with a grin.

Captain Max Rivers kept his field glasses fixed on the distant clearing. "We've certainly improved. We needed this; I shudder to think how badly we were doing this back on Vulcan."

Gibson shrugged. "We were improvising in the face of the enemy. You expect some screw ups." He replied matter-of-factly. Fact was they had taken heavy casualties in their first three months of campaigning against the Clans, not least because they had not had the opportunity to practice the tactics they had ended up employing. Gibson didn't know why the Clans had paused the invasion, why they had been seemingly inactive for the last two months, but he was determined not to waste the opportunity.

"Still, she is making a rather slick job of it." Max continued with more than a hint of pride in his voice. The Awesome's pilot was Captain Melissa Rivers, second in command of the mercenary company Gibson's Commandos and Max's wife. "The time spent on drills is paying off."

"That's why we do them." Gibson replied as he returned to looking through his glasses. Max turned to regard his friend with a half-smile. Looking at him, lanky with unkempt brown hair and wearing a scruffy, battle damaged uniform it was hard to imagine that he once wore the immaculate uniform of the 4th Davion Guards. Until you heard him talk about battlefield drill and watched him hammer the lessons home to his troops, then it started to made sense. It was just a shame he didn't have the same passion for report writing. The trained SAFE operative inside Max cried a little every time Gibson tried to submit a patrol report that was little more than a score sheet of kills vs loses.

The roar of jet engines grabbed Max's attention as a squadron of Corsairs tore through the sky high above him. Focusing his glasses back on the clearing he saw the technicians scramble to pull the camouflage nets into place, but too late. As they passed overhead the lead fighter released flares, the agreed signal that they had identified the encampment, then to add insult to injury preformed a snap barrel role to celebrate. "Not slick enough I guess." Max commented glumly.

"Evidently not." Gibson replied, annoyance clear in his voice. The aerospace fighters were a new addition to his command and while he was pleased to see their increasing competence he didn't enjoy seeing his ground forces slighted.

"Rock and a hard place." Max continued. "Without radar we can't see them coming, but turning it on will just give our location away."

Gibson didn't respond at first, just stared into the distance thinking. "Add it to the list, we'll solve it tomorrow." Putting his field glasses away he stretched and yawned. "Christ, who thought we needed to spend a fortnight on exercise a week before deploying; they should be fired."

"I believe that was you Sam." Max grinning. "Should I prepare the resignation forms?"

"Nah, I've changed my mind." Gibson replied flippantly as he started to walk back towards their Jeep. "Court martial followed by firing squad I think."

Max laughed. "After a fortnight on field rations there won't be any shortage of volunteers." He joked.

"Aye, I imagine not." Gibson smiled. "All the usual arrangements sorted, everyone had a chance to send HPG messages, none stuck in the backlog?"

"All sorted." Max replied as he started packing his kit into the Jeep.

"Talking of which, did you get a response from your son?"

"I did actually. He started back at school last month, says he's enjoying it, finding it easy." Max replied with fatherly pride. "Can't believe he's already 9."

"I must admit I keep forgetting. But then I keep forgetting mine aren't 10 years old anymore." Gibson added. "Hell George is nearly taller than me and as for Susan…" he tailed off, his attention drawn to a dust cloud moving towards them. "We've got company."

"Who even knows we're here?" Max replied as he checked his side arm was clear in its holster.

Max and Gibson watched as the dust cloud resolved itself into a black SUV than barrelled up the hillside at breakneck speed. The SUV drew up level with their Jeep and a lone Colonel stepped out. Max tensed up as he recognised the officer, Gibson set his teeth and did his best to affect a neutral expression. "Percival." He greeted the Colonel coldly.

"Is that all I get after all this time?" Colonel Percival asked in mock indignation.

The three men stood staring at each other, the silence deafening.

"How's the leg?" Max asked.

Percival frowned. "Fine, thank you." He replied, obviously annoyed. "Fine, if we can't be polite, we'll be professional. You are leaving on a reconnaissance mission next week." He produced a sealed envelope and held it out towards Gibson. "These are additional orders, to be opened when you make planet fall. I don't need to explain to you what Top Secret means."

Gibson took the envelope without replying, simply glaring at Percival with distain.

Percival met his glare without flinching. "Well I think we're done here. I'd say it's been a pleasure. But we all know that's a lie." He opened the door of his SUV and climbed inside. He paused before closing the door. "Good luck." He said with surprising sincerity, before slamming the door shut.

"Well that was odd." Max commented as they watched the SUV disappear into the distance.

"Yes." Gibson replied distractedly. He waited for the SUV to be out of sight before ripping open the envelope and reading the contents. "He's trying to get us killed again." He fought to keep his temper under control and lost. "I'm going to kill him, I'm not going to stab him in the leg this time, I'm going to cut his damn head off."

"Hold on, hold on." Max tried to calm Gibson down. "Let me read that." He took the envelope from Gibson and read the content. Then he reread it. "This is nuts. They want us to run a false flag operation on the HPG on Moritz. Disable the HPG and capture technicians for interrogation." He started to laugh nervously. "This is a wind up right?"

"It a bloody death warrant is what it is." Gibson raged as he jumped into the driver's seat of the Jeep and loaded an energy cell into his carbine. "Get in; we'll cut the bastard off before he gets back to town."

"Now hang on a moment." Max moved round to stand in front of the jeep as he tried to calm his friend down. "Look Percival is an unredeemable arse. But, he's not stupid and he's not suicidal. This is the sort of black op where the black op team and their handler gets wacked at the end of it. Percival knows that, there's no way this lunacy is his idea."

"What exactly are you getting at?" Gibson demanded, furious, but already his temper was subsiding as his mind grappled with the problem.

"We know that Comstar's staying neutral, passing messages for the Clans just like they would anybody else. If their record is anything to go by they might be doing a little more than passing messages." Max explained. "I think this mad little plan is the brain child of someone higher up the chain. Some sort of a knee jerk reaction to some incriminating intel. Percival's just been told to action it and he's given it to the one group of people who have no reason to trust him or do him any favours."

Gibson held up his hands. "Let me see if I follow you. Percival has given us this mission, because he trusts us, to distrust him enough, not to carry it out." He didn't sound entirely convinced.

"And to be resourceful enough to complete the intent without sparking a war with Comstar." Max expanded upon the point, excitement creeping into his voice. "Look, if we straight up refuse this, some other idiot will be given it and they might just try and carry it out as written. All we have to do is figure out what intel MI were hoping to get and then figure out how to collect it. Worse case we draw a blank and make up some excuse as to why we couldn't carry out our orders to the letter."

Gibson stared at Max for a few seconds before replying. "I think I need a stiff drink to follow all that." He said unhappily. Taking out a lighter he set fire to the incriminating orders. "I think I preferred it when he was just trying to get us killed, frankly Percival trusting us looks to be more dangerous."


	2. Chapter 2

12th March 3051

Planet Moritz

The explosive bolts on Gibson's re-entry cocoon fired, shedding the protective cover as his Battlemaster continued to free fall towards the planet's surface. Freed from the smothering embrace of the cocoon, his mech's sensors hummed to life, scattering tactical symbols across his HUD. A quick glace confirmed that everyone was where they were supposed to be. To the west Melissa's company was dropping to secure a landing zone for the Warspite while high above Yurika's aerospace fighter wing was maintaining a combat air patrol, engaging the lone star of aerospace fighters that had been sent to engage them. Around him, his own company was dropping as a faint to draw attention away from their dropship and buy time for its cargo of armour, infantry and support staff to disperse into the highlands unobserved.

Gibson's stomach clenched as the retro rockets fitted to his mech's legs fired, slowing his rate of decent just before it slammed into the ground with a bone crunching impact. "Rider Leader here, report in." he ordered as the rest of the company made landfall. A chorus of replies told him everyone had made it more or less in one piece. "Right then, Jenny take point. Nick bring up the rear. Let's do this thing."

"Roger." Captain Jenny Fenwick responded curtly as she shook Eagle Lance out into a vague skirmish line. Her Clint and Nicole's Javelin out in front, John and Albert's Valkyries trailing behind. Their target was clearly visible, even if it was a good 3km away, the massive deep space radar dishes were nominally a scientific station, but combined with the neutrino detector buried deep beneath them they doubled as long range early warning for the planet's defenders. High Command had decided that it was a capability the Clanners should be denied and Gibson has decided it would make an ideal soft target to use as a distraction.

Jenny kept her eyes fixed to her radar screen as the distance to their objective rapidly shrunk. She would have preferred a more measured approach, charging about and smashing through woodblocks was not her idea of reconnaissance. But, that was what the boss wanted and Jenny was far too much of a professional to ignore orders just because she didn't like them. She felt her earlier annoyance resurface but she supressed it. Right now that was going to be helpful, only a close watching on her sensors might give her the warning she needed to avoid running straight into a Clan star. She didn't get much of one. The lock on warning sounded moments before her Clint was pounded by laser fire. Wrenching her mech round to the right she narrowly avoided a flight of LRMs as she struggled to figure out where the fire was coming from. 200m ahead, 4 omnimechs had hidden themselves behind a ridge line, they had only revealed themselves when Jenny had walked into their killzone and even now they made illusive targets. "Contact." Jenny shouted across the radio net as she activated her jump jets, throwing her mech backwards as she fired her PPC blindly towards the enemy. Warnings sounded in her cockpit as weapons fire impacted across her mech, stripping away armour to reveal the Clint's vulnerable insides. The next volley should have been the end of her, but the Clan Warrior's discipline broke down. Anxious to be in on the kill a Fire Moth and Puma broke cover, cutting across their comrade's line of sight. It gave Jenny a few precious seconds to get into cover.

"Eagle Lance, fall back on Rider." Jenny ordered as she made a break for the covering heavy lance. "Fire Moth, Puma, Mad Dog, Timberwolf." She rattled off her report as she did so.

"Roger Jenny, we got you." Gibson replied as he shook his lance out into line. To his right he could just make out Nick's medium lance taking up a supporting position while Jenny's mechs passed through their lines into reserve. He bit his lip in frustration, fighting down the temptation to order a straightforward charge. Then, to his surprise, the Fire Moth emerged from the scattered trees alone. Unsupported by the rest of its star it almost evaporated under the concentrated fire of Rider Lance.

"New guy?" Max asked, surprised at the Clan pilot's suicidal pursuit. It wasn't the behaviour he'd come to expect of Clan Wolf's Warriors.

"No idea." Gibson replied offhand, though a frown spread across his face, he activated his radio. "Nick, I want to split their force. Take Shadow Lance round this group and go for the objective."

"On it." Nick replied as he took his lance off to the right. Sure enough they soon attracted the attention of the Clan Star, the Mad Dog moving off alone to counter them, leaving just the Timberwolf and Puma to face off against Rider Lance.

"Fire on my target." Gibson ordered as he locked onto the Timberwolf.

"I am Mechwarrior Yvonne of Clan Wolf." The Timberwolf pilot transmitted on the open frequency. "I challenge the pilot of the Black Battlemaster to a duel of warriors…"

"Fire." Gibson's order cut across Yvonne's challenge as his whole lance opened fire upon her, rocking the Timberwolf backwards as armour was ripped from its frame. He ignored her cursing him across open comms as he fired another PPC blast into her mech's side. Beside him Max's new Awesome added its PPCs while LRMs from the Crusader and Thunderbolt that made up the balance of his lance added their destructive fire to the attack. Ordering the Puma pilot to withdraw, Yvonne put up a valiant fight, using her mech's superior speed and reach she scored punishing hits on her attackers. But, Gibson kept a tight rein on his lance and critically his own desire to close the range, focusing instead on capitalising on his numbers and maintaining fire superiority. At length that superiority won out, Yvonne's Timberwolf collapsing to the floor, its internals shredded by repeated impacts.

Pausing to take stock Gibson noted that Nick had already taken down the Mad Dog and Jenny's Valkyries were busying demolishing the radar station that was their objective. "Anyone see that Puma?" he asked

"Sorry Boss. Lost it." Jenny reported, embarrassed.

"3 out of 4 will do." Gibson replied concealing his own disappointment. Intellectually he knew that he lacked the types of mech needed to run a fast mech like a Puma to ground, but it would have been satisfying to leave no survivors. That said, something about this felt off, he switched to the officer's only frequency. "Is it me, or was that all a little too easy?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Captain Melissa Rivers stiffened a yawn as she forced herself to stay focused. The lights in her Awesome's cockpit were dimmed, the reactor in standby mode generating only the bare minimum amount of power needed to keep the mech's systems ticking over.

"Sword Lance, sound off." She used the laser link to communication, figuring if she was suffering the rest of her lance were probably struggling to.

"Sword 2 here."

"Sword 3 aye."

There was a noticeable pause before the last mechwarrior spoke up. "Sword 4 here."

"Stay sharp troops." Melissa said firmly. "I know it's been a long fortnight, but this is the last patrol for a bit, no screw ups." It wasn't just the troops that were struggling Melissa knew, the past fortnight of raiding was taking its toll on their mechs. Just getting this company into the field had meant shuffling round machines and warriors to fill gaps, which was why she had Nick leading her medium lance rather than the injured Kyle Howard. It was also why Jenny was yet again out in the field leading Hawk Lance rather than resting with her own Eagle Lance. Melissa was starting to worry about the younger officer; she was trying to lead both light lances at the same time and was running herself into the ground in the attempt. Still, the last fortnights raiding had been quite successful. Their enemy had launched a series of large scale sweeps in an attempt to force the Commandos into a stand up fight. But the sweeps had been badly organised, with each Star operating almost independently with a complete lack of cooperation between the ground and aerospace forces. It was a weakness Gibson's troops had been more than happy to exploit, using hit and run tactics to draw isolated stars into ambushes. 4 times the Clanners had pursued their attackers and 4 times they had been badly bloodied. Still their superior weaponry had taken its toll on their attackers and the pure speed and toughness of the clan mech's had limited their casualties to a mere handful overall. Melissa ached to make this last raid an overwhelming success, to wipe out a whole star in a single strike.

"Contact." Jenny's voice broke Melissa's chain of thought. With her sensors in passive mode she had a rough overview of the situation and would rely upon Jenny's updates to keep her informed.

"Stormcrow, 2 times Nova, Kit Fox. 1.2km, North North East, in hot pursuit." Jenny continued her report. "Am falling back." Melissa didn't dare respond, a single rogue transmission could give the game away at this point. Instead she trusted that Jenny and Nick would stick to the plan, Jenny would draw the Clanners onto Sword Lance and its supporting infantry. Sword Lance would then act as the anvil to Nick's Shadow Lance's hammer.

Hawk's Valkyries fell back past Sword Lance on their way to the rally point, the Stinger quickly followed with Jenny's Clint close behind. Melissa fixed her eyes on the hill in front of her.

"Steady, wait for my command." She lasered the rest of her lance as the Clan star crested the hill heading straight for Melissa's position. "Steady." She wanted them to come as close as possible before opening fire, to make the first volley as devastating as possible. "Kit Fox first. Steady." Every heart beat seemed like an eternity as the enemy star barrelled down on their position. "Steady…. NOW!"

As one Sword Lance brought their mechs up to full power and opened fire. The range was less than 100m and the effect devastating. The Kit Fox pilot barely had time to react before its left leg was severed, dropping it to the floor. Melissa switched fire, bringing the Stormcrow under fire as the surprised Clan pilots tried to react. She felt a cold satisfaction wash over her as she saw the enemy star in complete disarray, milling about in her kill zone. Out the corner of her eye she could see that Shadow Lance was looping around to encircle their enemy, all but guarantying their destruction. It was almost too easy.

"Contact! Enemy Star, 60m." Shadow 2's radio transmission was cut short by static as his tactical symbol blinked off, replaced by 5 enemy contacts.

"Shadow Lance, break left, break left." Nick's frantic order was framed by the sounds of heavy autocannon fire.

"Nick what's going on?" Melissa demanded as she tried to keep one eye on her tactical display and the other on her weapons targeting.

"Been ambushed. We're under heavy pressure, need assistance." Nick replied the stress evident in his voice. An explosion interrupted the transmission. "Scratch that, just lost Shadow 4, am falling back."

"On my way Nick!" Jenny cut in across the radio. "Hawk Lance form on me."

Melissa glanced at the tactical display and made a snap decision. "Negative, Jenny set fire to the woods behind me. Malcom, get your infantry out of there. Nick fall back across my front; Sword will cover you. Sword, break off current target and follow me." She fired off orders rapidly as she pushed her mech out of cover towards what was left of Shadow Lance, leaving her previous targets to fall back unmolested, damaged, but not destroyed. Her mind ran through the options quickly. A Lance on a Star was bad odds, especially a Star that could rip through a medium lance that easily. "Jenny start making a lot of radio traffic, your now 1st Company." Melissa didn't have time to explain as the battered survivors of Shadow Lance come into sight, her heart caught in her throat as she got her first look at the attackers, a Summoner, a Stormcrow along with a Hellbringer and Timberwolf. She floated her aiming reticule over the Hellbringer, picking the easiest mech to kill as her first target. "Sword Lance time to earn your pay. Open fire!"

Smoothly Sword Lance came to a halt and opened up with everything they had. PPC and Large Laser fire intermingled with flights of LRMs. Their sudden appearance caused the Clanners to pause their advance for a moment, scattering for cover. It brought time for Nick's medium mechs to get clear, but the effect didn't last for long. While the Hellbringer fell back to use its longer range weapons the rest of the star broke cover and started to close the range.

"Fall back, steady does it." Melissa ordered. Beside her, the Archer and pair of Thunderbolts that made up the rest of her lance began to fall back towards the growing forest fire behind them. Melissa steadied her breathing as she took aim, anticipating the incoming fire that never came. To her surprise the Clan pilots focused on Leo's Thunderbolt, methodically stripping armour off the heavy mech.

"Steady…steady nearly there." She reassured her lance as they slowly fell back towards the protective smoke of the forest fire. "Nearly there." It was only another 100m, 20 seconds at most. She cursed out loud as Leo's mech exploded, a penetrating shot had bit deep and found the LRM ammo bin. "Stay together." She shouted as her lance started to fragment, moving instinctually away from the smoking hole that used to be a battlemech. The Clan star switched fire to her Awesome, but kept a respectful distance from the burning forest, suspecting it had been set to conceal the approach of the Commando's second company. It was certainly the effect Melissa had hoped for. As the smoke closed in around her mech she fired off one last volley into the enemy ranks. Just before she lost visual contact a fifth mech stepped into view. Another Timberwolf, but this one painted in a distinctive red and blue paint scheme. Melissa couldn't shake the feeling it was looking for something.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Melissa eased her battle scared Awesome back into the camouflaged dugout. Around her the Commando's camp was a hive of activity as the surviving mechs of her company was quickly guided into their respective bays and covered with camo nets to await the attention of the technicians. Slipping off her neurohelmet, she popped the her mech's hatch and slowly climbed down the rope ladder to the ground. Her husband awaited her at the bottom, a thermos of coffee in each hand.

"Rough mission." Max said sympathetically as he offered her one of the thermoses.

"If you're going to mother me I'll leave you at home next time." Melissa half-jokingly chilled him. It never failed to annoy her how nervous Max got when she went on missions without him, but a half smile gave away how much she appreciated that he always had a pot of coffee on the go for her when she got back. "Thanks though."

Together they began to circulate amongst the company, checking on the mechwarriors, offering reassurance to those that needed it, aid to those that were injured, coffee to those that weren't. "Sam said he would be down in about 5 minutes." Max said, checking his watch. "Wanted to give you time to sort things out before he addressed the company."

Melissa nodded, she was weary and mostly wanted to sort her troops out, write her report and go to bed. But she appreciated that with 1 in 4 of the company casualties Gibson would want to address the troops before the reality of the situation had a chance to properly sink in. "Morale should hold up. We've took beatings before." She replied quietly enough that only Max could hear.

"True." Max replied in the same hushed tone. "This wasn't anything on Ridderkerk."

They continued their rounds, most of the company moved like they were in a daze, a mixture of fatigue and shock. They had gotten used to success and this defeat had caught many of the less experienced members of the company by surprise. Melissa saw Gibson walking towards them and moved to intercept him.

"Ready?" He asked simply, his expression neutral, unreadable.

"Yes." Melissa replied and started to gather her troops in. Somewhat nervously they formed a semi-circle around their commanding officer. Gibson let the silence drag on for a moment as he met the eyes of each warrior present. Morale, he knew, was a slippery beast and the wrong comment at the wrong time could be disastrous. However, the mechwarriors in front of him looked like they had just been whipped and looked like they expected a whipping next time as well, it fell to him to change that.

"We lost 9 comrades today. Mechwarriors, Leonard, Nicci, Sean. Infantrymen, Ewan, Ken, Alex, Brian, Georgina, Fred. I want you to remember their names. I want you to remember them so next time we go out into the field you will know without doubt why we are fighting..."

Melissa phased out, she had heard similar speeches before. They were psychology 101, get the troops angry, then focus that anger at the enemy. She looked round at her company, it seemed to be working, most of them now looked grimly determined if not outright furious. Except Nick and Jenny. Jenny was shaking with the effort of keeping a neutral expression, Nick just looked vacant.

"…do me proud, do yourselves proud." Gibson finished and stepped back, the prearranged signal for Melissa to take over.

"As planned we are entering a period of refit." Melissa continued the pep talk without missing a beat. "You are each responsible for ensuring both you and your mech are at 100%. Next time, we will give them hell." She paused for effect. "Dismissed."

The company dispersed, leaving Melissa, Max and Gibson alone. "So what happened?" Gibson asked.

"Bit off more than we could chew. I thought we had trapped a lone star, but it was part of a binary." Melissa replied simply. "I'll have a more concrete assessment by tomorrow morning."

Gibson nodded. "Happens." He replied simply. "You ok?"

Melissa fixed him with a sideways glace and amused half smile. "Not my first rodeo Gibson."

"I know." Gibson grumbled while Max suppressed a smile. "Don't ask, don't find out and all that. How are the rest?"

Melissa looked up thoughtfully. "I don't think we will have a problem with the rankers." She considered her words carefully before continuing. "Nick's Lance got hit hard, he might need someone to talk to. You served with his father…he might value your input."

Gibson nodded. "He's in my company anyway, I'll handle it. Anything else?"

Melissa considered mentioning Jenny, but decided to talk to her herself first. "Nothing jumps out."

"Right, I'll let you get on. Canteen's been kept open for you, make sure you get a hot meal, Max has been worrying." Gibson added to Max's horror.

"I never said that." Max spluttered to both Melissa and Gibson's amusement.

"I'll do that, wouldn't what to worry my husband now." Melissa said innocently as she walked away.

"I'll pay for that later." Max complained to Gibson.

"I know." Gibson replied with a smirk. "But she'll forgive you for telling her to rest faster than she'd forgive me. You should get some food too; I'll go find Nick."

"Will do." Max replied, heading off to the Canteen.

Melissa didn't go for food, something was definitely wrong with Jenny and it wasn't in her nature to rest until the problem was resolved. She found the light mech captain perched on a camp chair, typing up her report.

"What's up Jenny?"

Jenny looked up, annoyance clearly written on her face. "Nothing." She replied before returning to her report.

Melissa took a short steadying breath, fighting down her own frustration. She pulled up a sandbag and sat down. "Something is wrong. You've been running yourself into the ground for the last fortnight and now you look ready to kill someone, so what is it?"

This time Jenny didn't look up. "It won't make any difference so why bother." She muttered, still typing.

"Don't make me make this an order." Melissa half growled, her growing frustration leaking into her voice.

Jenny snapped her laptop shut and glared at Melissa. "Today did not just 'happen'. I've been warning Gibson about this since Vulcan." Jenny kept her voice low but fierce. "I've been asking for better scouts to cover our flanks as well as our front and what have I got, more useless bloody Valkyries. I'm not being allowed to do my job properly and three of our Mechwarriors died for that."

Melissa listen carefully. "Do you know why we didn't replace the Valkryies?"

"Because, I'm not one of you and I don't get listened to." Jenny shot back.

"No." Melissa replied firmly. "I was there when we brought the replacement mechs. We can only buy what's available and the regulars picked up most of the better stuff. Nothing better was available, we had a hard enough time getting the second Clint." She paused a second. "Why didn't you bring these concerns to me?"

"Would he have listened to you anymore than he did me?"

"Yes as a matter of fact." Melissa responded angrily. "I'm the 2iC it's my job to advise the CO and I'm good at it. But I can't do anything about a problem I don't know about!" She moderated her tone considerable. "Look, I was an outsider too remember, working here is a culture shock I know."

"No shit." Jenny replied. "I'm Arcturan Guards." She stated with pride. "We have rules, we have doctrine, our boss doesn't walk around looking like a hobo."

"But we're not Guards, we're Commandos." Melissa replied levelly. She was sympathetic, having previously served with the FWLM joining the Commandos had been a shock to the system. "Our rules are laxer, our dress is scruffier and we're a damn liability in peacetime. But we're really good at killing Clanners. If you want to contribute to that, stop wishing for kit we can't have, figure out how we can do better with kit we have, make sure your report reflects that and make sure I get your report first so mine can reflect yours."

Jenny's anger gave way to frustration as she slummed back in her chair. "I don't think I'm staying after this campaign." She said quietly.

Melissa nodded. "Fair enough, this isn't for everyone. But in the mean time we need you, but we need you firing on all cylinders. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll pull my weight." Jenny reopened her laptop case. "I'd better rewrite this. You mind waiting for it?"

Melissa smiled. "Let's get something to eat first. We could both do with a break."

Meanwhile, Gibson had been trying and failing to find Nick. He knew Nick preferred a quiet working environment, it was therefore a surprise to find him in the cockpit of his mech right in the middle of the repair area. Gibson clambered up the rope ladder and heaved himself up onto the Wolverines shoulder without saying anything. Nick was engrossed in watching the playback of his last mission, giving it his complete attention. Gibson watched for some time before interrupting.

"Learn anything?"

"Gibson!" Nick jumped with surprise. "I'm just, just…"

"Try to figure out what you did wrong?" Gibson suggested sympathetically.

"Yes." Nick admitted sadly. "There must be something, something I could have done, something I should have seen."

Gibson lent back and looked at the sky. "Would you like to know when it went wrong?"

"Yes." Nick picked up noticeably.

"Rewind to just before the ambush." Gibson instructed. Nick complied and together they watched the replay until the first time a Clan mech came into view. "There." Gibson said, Nick paused the tape and stared at the screen, confused. "You got unlucky Nick, that's what went wrong. There was no way for you to know they were there, no way for you to predicted their presence, you just got unlucky."

Nick face fell. "There must be more than that."

Gibson shook his head sadly. "You know my record, I've been a soldier for 28 years and I can tell you this without fear of contradiction. It doesn't matter how good you are or how skilled you are, survival often boils down to luck and bad luck kills. Worse for us, our bad luck will get those under our command killed and we have to find a way to live with that."

Nick looked down unhappily. "How do you live with it?" He asked at length.

Gibson took a long breath and released it slowly. This conversation was going into territory he would rather avoid. "Why does everyone apart from Max call me by my last name?" he replied.

"Professional distance, you're the boss." Nick answered, though it wasn't something he'd given much thought to previously.

Gibson shook his head. "People were doing it long before that. No, it's simpler than that, I'm not close to many people here. Family aside, I have maybe two and a half friends here, everyone else is either a comrade or colleague, nothing more. That's very deliberate on my part. I lost a lot of friends in 39, so I made a conscious choice not to get close to people afterwards. That way it hurts less when they died." His voice changed, picking up a harder edge. "Nick, if you listen to no other advice I give you, listen to this one. Don't be me, figure out a better way of surviving in this game."

Nick didn't look any happier. "So what do I do?"

"Sorry Nick, you've got to figure that one out yourself. But as a start talk to the others, don't bottle things up inside. We've all got stories, no-one's going to give you any grief." Nick nodded in agreement. Gibson stood up on the Wolverines shoulder. "In the meantime, turn off that monitor, get out of this mech and get some hot food."

"Roger." Nick started the shutdown procedure. "Gibson…thanks."

Gibson nodded. "Sam, in private it's Sam. And no problem."


	5. Chapter 5

Sergeant William Zhao could feel the ground shake as the star of Omnimechs drew closer to his position. Hidden beside the road leading to the HPG station, he felt a familiar void in his stomach as he watched the giant warmachines draw ever closer, the strength of the vibrations increasing with every footfall. He fought down the feeling, confident that his position was too well camouflaged to be spotted and hopefully that they wouldn't step on him by accident.

"Timberwolf Prime, Mad Dog Alpha, Stormcrow Alpha, Puma Bravo." He whispered to his companion. Hidden in the same high grass, Private Nial Evering took down careful notes as the enemy force passed them by. Initially he had been a little overawed by seeing mechs from such a short range, but after a fortnight of manning this observation point it was almost becoming routine.

"Spacing still 90m." William continued to whisper observations. "No arc discipline. Lead mech, green/grey disruption pattern, likely 'Clockwork Wolf'."

'Clockwork Wolf' was the nickname the Commandos had given to this particular star's leader, so called because he never varied his patrol route, same route, same time, like clockwork. The network of observation posts the Commandos had established had identified a number of probable star leaders. Over time they had all gained nicknames, most of which were derogatory in some respect, picking up on some persistent habit they demonstrated. The problem they were having, William suspected, was a lack of experience fighting this kind of war. He'd seen it before, faced with an unconventional enemy and fighting a war they hadn't trained for, troops typically broke out the old, neglected doctrinal books and tried to do as had worked before. However, with no experience to guide them they often applied the methods without understanding why they were doing what they were doing. This quickly led to the likes of 'Clockwork Wolf' following the rulebook almost to the letter, while unknowingly setting patterns that make him extremely vulnerable to ambushes.

With the last of the star out of sight, Nial started to move out of the hide but something made William stopped him. He put his finger to his lips and together they waited as time slowly passed by. At length he began to doubt himself and was about to break cover when he saw the outline of a Timberwolf cautiously moving through the wood line opposite their position.

"Phantom Wolf." William muttered in alarm as Nial reopened his notebook. They watched as the red and blue Timberwolf stalked through the woods ahead of its star. 'Phantom Wolf' was so named because he never set a pattern, never gave warning of his appearance and disappeared just as quickly. He had led the star that had ambushed Shadow Lance and Gibson was currently giving tracking their whereabouts the highest priority.

"What's he doing here?" Nial asked in a worried whisper.

"I think he's using Clockwork as bait." William replied. "We're not the only ones to notice he's setting patterns apparently."

"Seems a bit harsh?" Nial said

"You just about summed up the Clan system there." William muttered as he watched the last of 'Phantom's' Star disappear after 'Clockwork's'. "Come on let's get back."

Slowly they crawled through the dense undergrowth until they were safety back in the dense wood their squad was using as a hide. Most of the rest of the squad was asleep, only a sentry and Captain Malcom Evans awaited their return.

"Got a problem Sir." William said as he dropped into the dugout.

"I saw sergeant. Our favourite fly in the ointment?" Malcom asked though he already knew the answer.

"Yes Sir. Clockwork won't be back, he never is. But Phantom, well your guess is as good as mine." William answered frankly. "It's your call Sir, at least we know he's not in the city right now."

Malcom hummed as he sat down on the earthen bank of the dugout. 300m away, hidden in a dry stream bed, he had a full platoon of infantry with their soft skin vehicles waiting to launch a deep raid into the city at sundown. The operation had been planned under the assumption that only one star would be in the vicinity, a second, particularly one led by the most dangerous of the enemy commanders, increased the risk factor significantly.

"We're going." He stated at length. "The divisionary attack on the base will go ahead regardless. I won't waste the opportunity."

"Good luck then Sir. See you on the other side." William replied.

"Aye, you too." Malcom replied grimly as he shouldered his laser rifle and carefully made his way back to his platoon's harbour area. He briefly conferred with the sentry before slipping into the harbour area itself. Some of his troops were cleaning their rifles and prepping their equipment, some were cooking on smokeless stoves, most were wrapped up in their blankets catching what sleep they could while they could.

"Tea sir?" Perrin Stoun his Platoon Sergeant climbed out of one of the civilian 4x4s they had acquired for the raid. Malcom thanked him and took a sip, allowing the hot liquid to warm him. Together they ran through the new developments and the implications for the raid as they waited for the sun to sink beneath the horizon. Twenty minutes later the mismatched convoy was hurtling down the main road towards the city, their lights off to avoid detection, drivers reliant upon their night vision goggles and the UV lights hung from the rear bumper of each vehicle. The city was deathly quiet, a Clan enforced curfew kept the residents indoors leaving the streets clear for the small convoy. If anyone noted their passage, no one challenged them, either mistaking them for a security patrol or unwilling to draw unwarranted attention to themselves by raising the alarm. The vehicles slowed as they neared their destination, pulling up outside the gates of Moritz's principle TV and radio station. Malcom grabbed a clipboard and ditched his helmet and rifle as he climbed out of his vehicle and approached the two guards on duty.

"Got a shipment of spares for department 7." He stated the bald faced lie with a bored indifference as he sized up the guards. One was young, very young for a security guard, the other was an old hand, probably ex police or militia, both were armed with an assault rifle. The older guard motioned for his partner to stay put as he approached Malcom.

"We're not expect anyone." He replied suspiciously. "Especially not at this hour." He squinted into the darkness as he tried to get a better look at Malcom, struggling to make out the details that would quickly give the game away. Not that Malcom was counting on his cover lasting long.

"I've got my paperwork here." Malcom continued the ruse offering up the clipboard, his other hand slipping down to his belt. The older guard took his left hand off his rifle to take the clipboard, momentarily lowering his guard. It was all Malcom needed, he stepped in drawing his pistol in the same motion and shoving it into the guard's stomach.

"Let me be clear. You can either die for Clan Wolf or live for the Federated Commonwealth. Which will it be?" Malcom growled to the guard. The guard hesitated for a moment and then let go of his rifle, slowing raising his hands. "Tell the kid, everything is ok, tell him to open the gate." Malcom ordered.

"Phil, its ok, don't do anything stupid, just open the gate." The older guard said without taking his eyes off the pistol embedded in his gut, a slight tremor in his voice.

"But?" Phil hesitated, uncertain of what to do.

"Phil is it?" Malcom said calmly but firmly. "We're from the Federated Commonwealth, we don't want to hurt you, we're just here to play a message. But we need you to open this gate.

Phil hesitated just a moment before letting his rifle drop to his side and swiftly moving to open the gates allowing the convoy into the studio's courtyard. The platoon swiftly dismounted, 1st squad moved to secure the gates while 2nd and 3rd stacked up at the main entrance awaiting the order to storm the building. Malcom holstered his pistol as Perrin handed him his helmet and rifle.

"I suggest you two make yourselves scarce." He said to the guards. "Tell them we got the jump on you." He shrugged. "It's mostly true."

"I can help." Phil pleaded. "There are Clan civilians in there, I can point them out, they might have useful information."

Malcom weighed up his options. "Ok, but you stay close to me and you leave that rifle in the 4x4s." He said firmly. "It's that or nothing." He added for emphasis when Phil looked like he would complain. "How about you old timer?"

"No thanks, I've seen enough of the universe." The older guard said as he unloaded his rifle and handed it over. "I'll stay out of your way."

Malcolm turned to his sergeant to give the order to start the assault but was interrupted by multiple sonic booms.

"They're bloody early!" Malcom exclaimed. "Sergeant, get the men in there!"

High above the city 3 squadrons of Yurika's aerospace fighters descended from orbit, each a tiny burning comet in the night sky. 2 of the squadrons, Corsairs heavily loaded with bombs, broke off to attack their targets while the 3rd, a squadron of Sparrowhawks, flew high as over watch. Air raid sirens wailed into the nights as the Corsairs bombed and strafed both the spaceport and the city's military base. No sooner had the Corsairs finished their bombing runs than smaller fireballs screamed into the sky from the east. LRMs, divorced from their launchers and painstakingly smuggled into the hills surrounding the base, were launched from makeshift rails made of earth and plastic guttering. Though unguided, they were accurate enough to mostly land within the base perimeter, adding yet more chaos to that already caused by the aerospace fighters. The volleys of missiles were electronically fired and staggered, giving the impression of an organised attack by mechs or armour, though in truth no Commando was within 2km when the firing began.

With chaos unfolding at opposite ends of the city no-one paid any attention to the small platoon of soldiers storming their way through the television studios. There was no organised resistance, the few guards quickly surrendered when confronted with heavily armed soldiers especially once it became clear that they had no interest in harming the building's occupants. With Phil to guide them, the assault teams quickly secured the main studio as well as the three Clan civilians working there. Malcom ordered their new prisoners secured in the vehicles and then set about achieving the primary objective of the raid. With the help of a group of the technicians he set up a pre-prepared tape to play on all channels and all frequencies. Across the planet, the citizens of Moritz found their evening's entertainment interrupted by the rogue broadcast. The image and voice of Moritz's Duke-in-Exile, broadcast into every home on the planet.

"My loyal citizens, do not despair." The Duke spoke with utter confidence, his dress uniform immaculate. "You have not been forgotten nor abandoned. This very night strike teams from the AFFC have launched attacks on the invaders that despoil our homeland, extracting a price in blood for their crimes. As I speak our glorious armed forces are rebuilding their strength and preparing the counter blow that will sweep the scourge of the Clans from our beloved Commonwealth. In the meantime, stay strong, resist the invaders by whatever means you can and look forward to the day of your liberation!"

The Duke's image was then replaced with the image of the Federated Commonwealth flag flying in the wind as patriotic music played in the background.

"Right, that's our job done. Barricade the door and let's go home." Malcom ordered once he was sure the tape would continue to play. As his troops filed out, he checked the recording one last time before following them down the stairs and out the front door. The street outside were alive with sirens and blue flashing lights, but no one paid any attention to their small convoy as it left the city. None the less, it wasn't until they were a good 10km clear before Malcom allowed himself to relax.

"All in all, not a bad mission." he commented to his driver as he sank back into his seat. "All objectives complete and a trio of prisoners to boot." Malcom's driver nodded and smiled, in his eyes any successful mission where they bought everyone back in one piece was an excellent mission.

The convoy continued its journey back to base undisturbed, but not undetected. Just off the side road hidden in the trees, a white painted Ostscout watched them pass and reported in.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick took a deep swig of his coffee as he studied the operations map. Draped over the table in the planning tent, it was studded with multi-coloured pins, red for enemy action and known positions, blue for friendly positions, black for successful raids and white for action by indigenous forces. The last was new, the fruits of Malcom's raid six days previous. Buoyed by their Duke's message and the undeniable presence of Fed Com troops on the ground, the braver of Moritz's citizens had begun an underground campaign of resistance. Most of it was low level, a food shipment hijacked here, some intelligence gathered there, but some enterprising lunatic had managed to sneak into the star port and set fire to one of the hangers, gutting it before the flames could be brought under control. The news hadn't done the company's morale any harm and privately Nick would admit he had felt no small amount of satisfaction himself. He could well imagine how furious the Wolf commander would be, though the possibility of retaliatory attacks bothered him.

"You still up?" Lieutenant Kyle Rivers stooped to pass through the tent's opening, closing it behind him. "It's 2am, you were staring at that map when I left at 7pm."

Nick stiffed a yawn as the taller ginger haired skyeman joined him at the table. "How did the raid go?" He asked, ignoring the question.

"Complete success, they won't be repairing that rail bridge anytime soon." Kyle positively beamed at the recollection. "Should have seen the explosion, those infantry lads don't blow things up by half!"

"They do enjoy their work." Nick replied as he pushed a black pin into the map. "That should delay the spaceport repairs. That line carried most of the quarry traffic from the mountains."

"Yeh, yeh." Kyle said dismissively with a wave of his hand as he made himself a cup of tea from the boiler. "Saw that bloody Ostscout again. Arrogant little sod seems to know I can't shoot him. Tailed me for a while, but I lost him."

"There's at least two of them." Nick replied, concerned. "And that makes sighting 4 in 5 days, plus however many times we've not seen them watching us. It's not normal Comstar behaviour."

"No its not, but there's nothing we can do about them. Bloody Comstar, bloody neutrality." Kyle went back to stooping over the map. "So learn anything worth losing a night's sleep over?"

"I think so." Nick replied, looking thoughtful. "I think I know why our enemy is so disorganised."

Kyle pulled up a chair. "Well don't keep me in suspense."

"It's just a hunch, but I've been talking to our prisoners, apparently the world's governor is Star Commander Leopold." Nick paused to let the significance sink in only to be met by Kyle's bored indifference. "He's functionally a lieutenant, with no blood name, yet he's commanding an entire planet and the equivalent of a regiment of troops." Nick continued with incredulity.

"So…their boss is too inexperienced to coordinate his forces." Kyle replied, not entirely convinced. "Nick, I think you should get some sleep, come at this fresh in tomorrow."

"No, you don't get it." Nick replied excitedly. "The commander should have a blood name. If there was a blood named warrior on the planet, then they would be in charge." He paused for breath. "We've not had a single challenge from a blood name warrior, not one. I don't think it's just that their leaders are inexperienced, I don't think there's any here. That's why there's no coordination, it's why their stars are often short a man. Individually, the warriors know what to do, but aside from the odd Ristar there's no one with the standing to enforce their will on the rest."

"Ristar?" Kyle asked.

"Literally Rising Star, Top Gun, an up and comer." Nick answered as he nervously watched his friend's reaction.

Kyle considered what he'd heard for a moment before replying. "Think you might be on to something there. But if there not here, where are they?"

Nick sighed and relaxed into his chair. "I don't know, just that they are not here. I think that's why the invasions been paused, there's no general to lead it."

"Well it's part of the answer." Kyle said with a smile as he clasped a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You'll figure the rest out tomorrow. Now, go get some sleep. I need this tent to write my report and I can't concentrate over the sound of you thinking."

Nick laughed and collected up his papers. "Well I wouldn't want to be a distraction." He said innocently. "I'll see you…" He looked at his watch. "Well I guess I'll see you later today." Nick finished sheepishly.

Kyle's laughter was cut off by the sound of heavy autocannon fire. "What the hell!" Nick exclaimed as they both turned in shock. More weapons fire sounded from outside the camp, PPC bolts lighting up the sky at they tore through the trees to explode among the tents and dug outs. Kyle reacted first.

"Get to your mech!" he shouted as he tore through the tent's door, Nick following close behind. Outside the camp was in chaos, tracer rounds and laser bolts flying in all directions as the attackers pressed their advantage while the defenders scrambled to mount a defence. Nick could hear the treble blast of a Schrek PPC Carrier firing away into the darkness while the whine of numerous laser rifles was almost lost in the repeated bursts of fire from mech calibre autocannons. Together, Kyle and Nick sprinted for their mechs, half throwing themselves up the rope ladders as they clambered into the cockpits and started their reactors. The familiar green glow of night mode filled Nick's cockpit as his mech's system came online, his HUD populating with a confusing mess of enemy contacts and friendly units milling around inside the camp, the radio net hopelessly clogged as radio discipline broke down, each units shouting over each other in an attempt to be heard. Nick switched to a private laser link with Kyle.

"Radio's useless, what do we do?"

Kyle looked around trying to get his bearing. "Fight the closest enemy." He declared. Spotting several other mechs beginning to move nearby he flashed his mech's flood lights to get their attention and expanded the laser net to include them. "You, you and you. This is Stalker Leader, follow me!"

Boldly the five mechs advanced through the flames and boiling smoke as they swept through the camp trying to pin down the location of the attackers. Ahead of them contacts appeared and then disappeared just as quickly as the enemy slipped in and out of cover, using the concealment of darkness to hide their movement.

"There's got to be a full star of them!" George exclaimed, his Griffin taking up its customary place on Kyles left shoulder. "And there's more on the other side of camp."

"I don't care if there's a whole cluster, we're taking them." Kyle declared in response. His blood up, he simply wanted to get into the fight. "Entering weapons range, fire on my target, give um hell." His makeshift lance opened fire with PPCs and LRMs steaking off into the distance, but the enemy moving elusively in and out of cover presented only a fleeting target, no sooner firing than melting back into the gloom. Presented with such a target, much of the Commando's fire was wasted, while they were in turn silhouetted against the flames of the burning camp making easy targets for the Clanner's fire. Confused and uncertain of what to do, they clumped together, seeking the safety of numbers and returned fire blindly despite Kyle's shouted encouragement to focus their fire.

In the cockpit of his Wovlerine, Nick's eyes danced over the various displayed as he tried to make sense of the situation while still keeping up a steady rate of fire. Suddenly the solution hit him and his eye's opened wide in surprise.

"There's only two of them." He whispered to himself in shock as he realised the solution. He flicked open the laser connection.

"Kyle, there's only two of them in front of us and another three on the other side of the camp. They are moving about so much while the smoke and trees messes with our sensors that it's throwing up ghost responses." In his excitement he had to work hard to keep his voice level.

"What!" Kyle shouted back in confusion. Fully focused on the fighting to his front he didn't understand the relevance of what Nick was trying to tell him.

"There's…" Nick realised the problem and how to solve it. "There's only two of them. Follow me!"

Nick's Wolverine shot forward leaving the apparent safety of the group as he cut between the two groups of Clan mechs. Kyle swore loudly, shouted for Nick to get back, swore again and then chased after him, the rest of the lance, unsure of what to do, but unwilling to be left behind, followed.

Smashing through a stand of trees, Nick finally got a good view of his enemy. Bringing his PPC to bear he snapped off a shot at the Summoner as it relocated, exploding a tree to its right. Surprised to find an enemy so close, the Summoner quickly rallied, moving closing the range in an attempt to get a quick kill. Warning alarms rang in Nick's ears as his mech recoiled from the impact of multiple 155mm autocannon rounds. Recovering quickly, he threw his mech forwards into the fire, dodging right as laser fire and SRMs stabbed through the smoke just missing him. Closing into melee range he switched to his lasers and SRMs, firing a volley into the Summoner as he kicked out, catching it with a glancing blow to its left leg. Undaunted the Summoner calmly backed up and fired again, this time the burst of heavy rounds tore through the armour on the Woverine's left arm, tearing away the PPC. As Nick stumbled, the Summoner set its feet for another volley only to be blindsided by the onrushing Kyle. Kyle's smaller Wolverine smashed into the 70ton Summoner, buckling its armour plating and putting the LB-20X Autocannon out of action. Barely keeping his feet, the Summoner's pilot quickly recognised his impossible position and fired his jump jets, propelling him backwards and into cover.

"Don't let up!" Kyle and Nick shouted over each other as they leapt forwards in pursuit, their lance right behind them. They opened fire the moment their target came into sight, lasers crisscrossing the small gap between the two sides as SRMs screamed into the night. With both sides jumping, accuracy was appalling most of the fire wasted on the surrounding terrain. Falling back as quickly as possible the Summoner linked up with a Hellbringer and for a moment they looked like they might make a stand. The sound of tracks soon put pay to that idea. Inspired by the advance of the mechwarriors, 3 Schrek PPC Carriers rolled forwards out of their defensive positions adding their fire to that of Nick and Kyle's mechs. Caught between two superior forces the Clan Mechwarriors, no longer enjoying the element of surprises broke off and ran for it.

"Kyle, George, Alan. Go after them. Stop them regrouping." Nick ordered.

"Where are you going?" Kyle demanded.

"Going for the Boss." Nick replied.

"Got it. George, Alan on me." Kyle acknowledged, leading his scratch lance of a Shadowhawk and Griffin in a cautious pursuit of the two Clan heavy mechs. Nick watched them go for a moment before turning around. "Penny, follow me." He ordered as he headed back towards the second group of Clan mechs, where he hoped to find the rest of the battalion. Quickly he came to understanding the situation. Two Timberwolves and a Stormcrow were rapidly relocating between shots, presenting no fixed target and giving the impression that there was at least a binary out there sniping at the camp. With no obvious target to attack, Gibson had formed a firing line had of whoever had made it to their mechs or tanks and was directing volleys of fire into the gloom, looking for all the world like an enormous 18th century infantry sergeant as he stalked up and down the line in his Battlemaster.

"Sir, I have eyes on, there's only three of them. I'm on their flank." Nick reported, borrowing Kyle's flood light trick to get his commander's attention.

"Roger, advancing." Gibson's terse reply came with only a minimum of delay. Trusting his subordinate's instincts, he led his line forwards in a measured advance, keeping a tight formation where their firepower would be maximised. Recognising that they had lost their advantage and they were now outgunned and running low on ammunition, the Clan mechwarriors didn't wait to meet the Commando's advance, instead they faded back into the night, disappearing as swiftly as they arrived.

"Nick watch my flank; we're going after them." Gibson ordered as he made to follow, pure fury evident in his voice.

"Sir, we can't catch them." Max cut in, the urgency of the situation and the congested nature of the radio net forcing him to break protocol and contradict his commander on an open channel. "Each of their mechs is faster than ours and better armed. We risk being cut off and destroyed in detail."

Gibson didn't reply at first, nor did he stop. He dearly wanted to pursue the Clanners, to catch them and to kill them, vengeance for all that he had lost since the start of the invasion. Yet at length he did stop, the rest of his scratch force pulling up to a halt behind him.

"Acknowledged." He replied as he forced himself to think things through rationally, fighting his emotions down. "Melissa, Max. Get those fires out and prepare us to move out. I want us ready to move within 2 hours. Jenny, find Kyle get him back here and set up patrols. I don't want us surprised again. Nick, this will be a daylight move, contact Yurika and get us air cover. Medevac to."

A chorus of 'yes sirs' filled the laser channel and something resembling order began to reassert itself in the camp. As the fires were put out and the wounded collected and triaged, the scale of the damage became obvious. Though effective camouflage had saved much of the camp from direct fire and diligent digging in of accommodation had helped limit the casualties somewhat, the numerous fires the bombardment had started had destroyed much of the heavy equipment used to service mechs while many of the company were wounded or suffering from smoke inhalation. Further, several mechs had been destroyed in the service bays and much of the spare parts and ammunition had been destroyed. As bad as the damage was, it could have been much worse and the question of why Clan Wolf had not finished them off vexed Gibson even as he oversaw the reconstruction. Once the radio net had cleared he had only one question to ask his commanders. He thumbed the command frequency.

"Anyone know why we're still alive?"

"I think I know." Nick replied and began outlining his theory.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibson was waiting for the other shoe to drop. While he found no particular fault in Nick's theory, he found it inconceivable that Clan Wolf would simply allow them to slip away unmolested. By all rights the sky should be already be full of omnifighters while omnimechs pounded the Commando's convoy into dirt. Yet, the sky was clear and no contacts registered on the long range passive sensors as the long convoy of vehicles and mechs wounds it way up the valley road. It was suspiciously too easy.

The clear and sunny sky wasn't doing anything to improve Gibson's mood, a morning fog, a rain storm, anything that might offer some concealment would have been welcome, but instead visibility was perfect making the convoy all the more vulnerable. A daylight move had been the worst case scenario as far as relocating the camp went, but the situation had offered few alternatives. There hadn't been enough hours or darkness after the attack to get clear of the local area. They could have laid up at day break but they would have been far too close to the old camp and have made it trivial for any follow up forces to find them. The only other option would have been to call for pick up and abandon the campaign, but he hadn't been willing to admit defeat just yet, not least because he still lacked clear answers about what the Clans were doing and what Comstar had to do with it.

The convoy continued its slow progress, held up by the single road and the wheeled vehicles which struggled with the rutted surface. Gibson's Rider Lance formed the close escort, while Jenny's Eagle and Nick's Shadow formed a screen in front and to the left. Melissa had taken Sword, Stalker and Hawk to escort the second convoy carrying the wounded to the evac point to await pick up by the Warspite. Uncharacteristically, second thoughts plagued Gibson. There was still time to order a complete withdraw he knew, still time to avoid the big risk he was currently taking. He opened a laser line to Max.

"Max, quick sanity check. Is this going to work?"

Cocooned in the cockpit of his Awesome, Max double checked that the line was private before relying. "If Nick's right, I give us decent odds. If he's wrong…well let's hope he's not wrong." Max left unsaid that they had already had this conversation before the convoy had set off, before they had committed to this course of action. "You ok Sam?"

"No, we're moving too slowly." Gibson replied with frustration and concern evident in his voice. "We're supposed to be a good 20km further up this track than we are." Ahead of them the convey slowed to a halt again as one of the vehicles bogged down into the mud. Gibson's frown deepened as Rider Lance's Archer lumbered over to push it clear.

"This worked a lot better on paper admittedly." Max commented flatly.

"It worked a lot better when we tested it on Maestu." Gibson half growled. He forced himself to relax. "At this rate if we get contacted by anything bigger than a star we won't be able to get the convoy clear."

"The technicians are already riding in the infantry's APCs. If we had to abandon the wheeled vehicles we'd only be losing material." Max replied. He'd insisted on including that particular contingency as part of the plan over the objections of just about everyone else.

"We'd lose a lot of material if we ditch the vehicles. Never mind all the support equipment needed to keep the mechs operational." Gibson sounded thoughtful, trying to reason out a better solution than the ones he had on hand. The convoy was moving again now, though the pace was still infuriatingly slow.

"Which we'd lose anyway if the convoy is overrun. I think your right, plan B isn't workable. If we get attacked we need to move onto plan C." Max phrased that carefully, Gibson was a 3rd Succession War veteran, abandoning salvage went heavily against the grain. "Besides we already dispatched all the Clan tech salvage with Melissa. We wouldn't be losing anything we couldn't replace once we're back on a friendly planet."

For a time Gibson didn't reply. "Your right." He sounded resigned. "I don't like it but your right." He sighed loudly. "Should have just gone straight for evac. Would have saved more kit."

"Hindsight and all that. Still time to make the call." Max prompted.

"Not much." Gibson replied as a small red dot appeared on his radar screen. He flicked over to the radio. "This is Rider Leader. Enemy fighters at 10 o clock high." Decision already made he didn't hesitate further. "Plan C, repeat plan C. Jenny take the lead, Nick grab what you can off the vehicles then set them on fire. Malcom get the drivers in your APCs and follow Jenny, Rider Lance will cover. Max what's Yurika's eta?"

There was a noticeable pause before Max replied. "Should be soon." He transmitted on the open frequency before switching back to the private laser line to Gibson. "We haven't received any communications since we broke camp. None of our mobile kit can receive or transmit on the right frequencies. If she's on time we'll have support inside the half hour. But, if she's been delayed or run into opposition." He paused. "We might be on our own here."

Gibson sat in stony silence in his cockpit as he digested that bit of information. The number of enemy omnifighters flying towards them continued to grow, there was at least 22 of them now with the first due overhead any minute. The 3 mechs left in Rider lances would be poor defence against such a force.

"Well looks like someone is finally taking us seriously." Gibson said with dark humour. "Let's hope Yurika got her invitation."

"Aye." Max replied as he brought his Awesome's PPCs online. "And let's hope she's not running fashionably late."


	8. Chapter 8

Far above Moritz, Captain Yurika Ikari sat in the command chair of the Vengeance class dropship Furious. Young, with shoulder length black hair neatly tied into a pony tail to keep it out of the way in zero gee operations, she wore a look of comfortable confidence even as her mine raced through the possibilities. In order to avoid interception, the Furious and Overlord class dropship Warspite had been holding in a long elliptical orbit. This gave them an exceptional high velocity as they swung past the planet, far too fast to be caught by planet based interceptors. Currently they were both burning hard to shred that excess velocity and enter orbit. So far this was all fairly text book, the fly in the ointment was the Carrier class dropship current in orbit, well placed to intercept them. Yurika would have to decide what, if anything, she would do about that threat very soon as the gap between the vessel shrank by the second.

"Signal from the Warspite ma'am." Ensign Alvard Bengt reported in his usual nervous manner. Yurika favoured him with a reassuring smile. "Put Captain Livens on my screen."

Truth be told, Yurika wasn't too bothered about the Carrier or its fighters. She had already made her mind up about what she was going to do. Instead she focused on maintaining the illusion of utter self-confidence and complete control over the situation. Like her crew, Yurika was very young for her role. She had gained her captaincy for very little better reason than she had been the only officer to survive the battle that had crippled the Furious and annihilated the rest of the Free Rasalhague Republic battlegroup she had been a part of. Most of her crew were likewise orphans of destroyed dropships who survived in escape pods or had been trapped in air tight compartments. Together they had salvaged the Furious and they shared a desire for revenge on the Clanners. But, they were inexperienced and their morale shaky. They all looked to her for leadership and she feared they would not long hold together if she gave them cause to doubt her.

She adopted her most welcoming smile as the connection opened, the grim, grey haired visage of Captain Gerald Livens of the Warspite filling her personal display screen. Yurika made sure she spoke first.

"Good morning Captain, how are you?"

Put slightly on the back foot Gerald stumbled though swapping pleasantries as he tried to refocus on the tactical matter at hand.

"Captain Ikari, that Carrier dropship is well placed to intercept us. I need you to draw it off so I can make a run for the planet."

"There's no need Captain, they won't intercept us." Yurika replied with confidence. "The Clan's view us as mere transports, non-combatants. I intend to launch all my fighters to cover your landing and the ground forces. If you would join your fighters to my own, we will have air superiority whether the enemy is already airborne or not."

"I'm reluctant to launch everything." Gerald replied, unconvinced.

"Our enemy is only interested in the glory and honour of combat." Yurika replied firmly, but was careful to keep her tone friendly and polite. "They will go where our fighters are, spreading our numbers will just make us weaker. Trust me, captain." She smiled and slightly tilted her head, knowing full well that Gerald pretty much always folded to that request. "They will not target our dropships any more than we would target a jumpship."

It was an unusual relationship between the two dropship captains. Though Gerald was significantly more experienced and had seniority, he was in the pay of House Davion while Yurika was Rasalhague and acting as an ally, not a subordinate. It was a system that required cooperation and negotiation and that did not suit the stilted and professional Gerald at all. Yurika felt a little bad about manipulating him. She actually respected his abilities as Captain; when it came to making tactical landings in a contested LZ he was among the best. But, he had little interest in space combat and that was where Yurika's particular talents lay. She knew what needed to be done, she just needed her more experienced partner to recognise that.

"Roger." Gerald replied after a brief pause. He still didn't look entirely convinced, but he hated to let a comrade down by refusing a request for aid. "Drake Squadron is at your disposal."

"Thank you Captain." Yurika replied, magnanimous in victory. "Good luck with the landings."

"You too Captain, good hunting." Gerald replied as he cut the connection. Yurika turned to her fighter controller Lieutenant Rikiina Watanabe.

"Please tell Captain Green he will have all four squadrons with him. Begin launching as soon as we hit Waypoint Foxtrot."

"Yes ma'am." Rikiina replied as she began hurriedly issuing orders. Yurika went back to quiet contemplation. The worst thing about space combat, she was learning, was that there was an awful long time between making a decision and seeing the result. She hoped she was right about the defender's attitude, that nothing had changed their procedures since her last raid. But, as the old saying went, the die was cast and there was nothing to do but wait to see how it fell.

Deep in the Furious' hanger bay, Captain Steven 'Sven' Green waited patiently as the hanger crew manoeuvred his Corsair aerospace fighter into one of the eight launch tubes. He heard a clunk as the catapult engaged with the front wheel of his fighter and he turned to exchange a thumbs up with the catapult chief. He made a last check of his instruments as the launch tube was sealed and the atmosphere evacuated, the door at the end of the tube sliding open.

"Right then. This is Dragon Leader. Launching."

The electromagnetic catapult threw his fighter forwards, pushing him back into his seat as the medium weight fighter was thrown clear of the Furious and into open space. He let the fighter drift for a few moments before lightly touching the controls to cancel its lateral motion and bring her into formation with the mothership. Ahead the magnificent blue and green planet Moritz filled his view from the cockpit, reminding him of similar views of the planet Earth which he had seen in books, but never visited himself. His HUD overlaid it with tactical symbols, highlighting the Clan Carrier class dropship and his planned approach vector for breaking into the planet's atmosphere. He switched displays and watched the 5 symbols of the rest of his squadron turn green as they launched and took up formation around him, each pilot checking in as they did so.

"Hey Sven." Lt Lilly Karlsson radioed him. "Going to add anything to you kill count today, or going to let the rest of us have some fun?"

Steven's nickname had taken some getting used to. He was one of only two Davions assigned to the Furious, transferred across from the Warspite as mentors to the inexperienced Rasalhague pilots. The Rasalhagues had originally been less than impressed to have two 'foreigners' dumped on them and Steven had taken the corruption of his name to be just another of the many 'pranks' played on the interlopers. It had been the blond haired Lilly who had explained that it was actually their attempt at 'norsification', a sign they had accepted the Davion pilot as one of their own.

"Captain reckons there will be enough bandits to go around." Steven replied. "If you don't get one you won't be able to blame me."

"As long as we outscore the other squadrons we'll be happy. Got a reputation to uphold." Lilly added happily, excited as always to be heading into combat.

Back when Oliver and Steven had joined the Furious they had found the shipboard squadrons badly disorganised, still reeling from the heavily loses in the battle that had seen the Furious crippled. Most of the officers were dead and many of the surviving pilots were very green, mere cadets who had been called forward as replacements. The Davion pilots had used the respite at Maestu to not just retrain but also reorganise the squadrons, mixing veterans and rookies together in Pegasus, Griffin and Drake Squadrons to even out the quality. The exception was Dragon Squadron where Steven had handpicked the best of the rookies, forming an elite squadron without robing the others of experience.

"Look sharp, here comes the rest." Steven transmitted to his squadron. "Dragon 5, watch your drift, your falling out of formation."

"Sorry Sven." Eric replied as he deftly fired manoeuvring jets to bring his fighter back into formation. The rest of the wing began to take shape now. 10 Corsairs from Furious with another 6 from Warspite as well as 5 Sparrowhawks, all in formation around Steven's fighter. Steven switched frequencies to talk to Furious.

"Dragon Leader to Furious, we're all set."

"Roger, Dragon Leader. God speed." Rikiina voice came back over the radio.

Steven switched frequencies again. "Dragon Leader to all fighters. Right, let's go." With that he gently pushed open the throttle to 2 G's, feeling the illusion of gravity this produced push his body back into his seat as the fighter wing left their dropships behind and leapt towards the planet ahead. There was no eye balling it, his HUD told him exactly where he needed to enter the atmosphere and exactly what his relative velocity needed to be. Pointing his fighter's nose down he felt the stick shake as the atmosphere started to take hold, friction heating up the crafts skin until it glowed, flames shooting up and around his cockpit in a highly unsettling manner. The flames died down as Steven entered cruising altitude, having burnt off his excess velocity in the descent. Instinctively he checked his instruments and tested his controls, rolling his Corsair gently from side to side and pitching the nose up and down. He was pleased the see that the rest of the wing were doing likewise.

"Bloody hell there's a lot of them." Oliver radioed, his Corsair leading Pegasus Squadron to Steven's left. Below them 2 and a bit Star's worth of omnifighters wheeled and turned as they took turns bombing and strafing the scattering Commandos. There was Sporadic ground fire as a handful of mechs tried to hold them off, PPC bolts and LRMs screaming into the sky seeking out the swarming omnifighters. But it was too little and too poorly organised to do more than inconvenience the attackers who pressed their attacks regardless, raining bombs down upon the handful of mechs still standing, all badly damaged.

"Right, all points listen in." Steven cut in. "There are more of them, but we have a height advantage and surprise on our side. Remember their fighters have shorter legs than ours, if you get into trouble turn and burn, they will have to break for home first." Steven was just repeating advice he'd given previously, but this would the first big dogfight for a lot of his pilots, he wanted to know they knew what to do.

Noticing the new comers, a group of Sulla broke away from the circling carousel. Dropping their bombs and tanks they climbed up to meet the Inner Sphere fighters.

"So much for surprise." Steven complained to himself. "Right. Griffin stay high and cover us, Pegasus, Dragon, Drake, bandits 12oclock low." He paused, knowing he was going to get grief for this in the mess later. "Tally Ho."

Steven pushed his Corsairs' nose down, accelerating towards the oncoming omnifighters. He picked out the leader, heading straight for them he waiting for the target lock. He squeezed the trigger, twin beams of ruby light briefly connected their fighters as armour burnt off the Sulla's nose. Immediately Steven threw open the throttle and rolled to the right, beams of light and the ion trail of PPC blasts cutting through the space his Corsair had occupied moments earlier. In an instant he was through, the Sullas left far behind for Griffin Squadron to deal with. Glancing left and right he saw that most of the others had made it through. Pegasus Squadron's Sparrowhawks pulled ahead as they dived down upon a flight of Avar, the rest of the wing split into wing pairs as they singled out targets. Steven picked out a pair of Jagatai, heavily loaded with bombs as they lined up for a bombing run. Roaring down behind them, he centred the wingman in his sights, closing to point blank range he pulled the trigger, laser fire payed across the Jagatai's tail, incinerating control surfaces. From high on his right wing, Lilly added her fire, twin large lasers cutting down upon the stricken Jagatai, piecing its fuel tank.

"Got one!" Lilly shouted in triumph as the Jagatai exploded, but Steven was already chasing his next kill. When his wingman exploded the lead Jagatai dropped his stores and cut left. Steven snapped rolled as he followed him through, his Corsair mere meters away from the tail of the Jagatai as he tried to get a weapons lock. The Jagatai rolled, trying to force an overshoot. Steven followed him, his vision blurring from the g's, his weapons blazing as he fired his lasers as fast as their capacitors recharged. Unable to shake his dogged pursuer, the Jagatai's pilot thought to outrun him, putting his nose down and firing his afterburners. Steven let him extend, patiently floating his cross hairs over his enemy's wing. Two quick twin blasts severed the Jagatai's wing, sending it into a fatal spin towards the ground.

"Still with me Lilly?" He asked, looking round for his wingwoman.

"I'm below you." Lilly replied. "Let's get another."

Climbing to regain height he'd lost in the attack, Steven turned to his right searching for another target. An Avar crossed in front of him, just starting its attack run. Swiftly Steven brought his craft round, locking on with his lasers. But, the Avar pilot saw him coming, rolling onto its side the lighter omnifighter turned tightly to the right. Steven strained the muscles in his arms as he tried to force his Corsair to follow, g force pushing him deeper into his seat but still he lost ground unable to keep the nimbler omnifighter in his sights. Lock on alerts sounded and he instinctively rolled to the left and dived, laser fire slashing past his cockpit as the Avir's wingman dived down to his leader's aid. Steven threw his Corsair into a roll, trying to force an overshoot, but the Avir stuck to him. More warnings sounded in Steven's cockpit as laser fire played across his right wing. "Damn it. I need some help here."

"Nearly there." Lilly transmitted as she manoeuvred onto the Avir's tail, forcing it to break off as she pounded it with laser fire, smoke erupting from its engine cowling. "Got him!" She shouted in triumph.

"Watch your 6!" Steven shouted in warning as he saw the first Avir climbing to his wingman's aid. Completely focused on her target, Lilly didn't hear him as she followed the crippled Avir, firing again and again to ensure it went down. She didn't realise she was under attack until laser fire burnt a track across the belly of her Corsair. Throwing her aerospace fighter to the right she dived, trying to throw the Avir off her tail. "Got one on my 6!"

Steven swore as he dragged his own damaged craft round. "On my way." He replied as he fought the controls of his Corsair. Never the most aerodynamic of aerospace fighters, the damage to his wing was not helping matters as he fell further and further behind the manic dogfight between the Avir and Lilly.

"Sven where are you!" Lilly shouted as she threw her fighter around the sky trying any manoeuvre she could think of that might throw her pursuer off.

"Damn it!" Steven cursed to himself as he felt his Corsair shaking itself apart in the attempt to catch them. "Lilly, turn to port. Drag him across my guns."

"Got it." Lilly replied as she rolled her Corsair and fired her afterburners, shooting ahead of the Avar. The Clan pilot followed her, laser fire slicing through the air as he tried to lock onto his jinxing target. Steven took a deep breath and cut back on the throttle as he picked his moment, knowing he would only get one. Lilly cut in front of him, a good 400m ahead, on the edge of his engagement envelop, a difficult shot at a bad angle. He licked his lips as the Avar pulled in front of him, locked on and fired. Briefly two lines of ruby light linked the fighters, then fire erupted from the rear of the Avar, its fuel line punctured, compressed hydrogen steaming out of the mortal wound. The Clan pilot held his course, firing one last time in an attempt to down Lilly's fighter before ejecting clear of his dying omnifighter.

"Great shot!" Lilly whooped, seeming not to care how close she had been to death. "Let's get another."

"Negative." Steven replied, acting as the voice of reason. "My engine is damaged; you've taken some hits too. Climb for orbit and disengage." He ignored Lilly's complaints as he made a quick check to ensure no one was looking to bounce them as they climbed. "Besides, I think we've got this."

Looking back towards the main battle his HUD showed that though his squadrons had taken a handful of casualties, they now heavily outnumbered the remaining omnifighters. True he expected to find that most of the Clanners had gotten away, forced to disengage by dwindling fuel supply rather than enemy fire. But, a number of smoking craters in the ground and white parachutes drifting in the wind said that he wasn't the only pilot to claim a kill this morning. Far below he could see the ant like mechs of the ground troops spreading out to rescue the downed pilots and hopefully capture some of the enemy's.

As Steven and Lilly climbed, the clouds in front of them turned an angry red, boiling with unimaginable energy.

"What in the seven hells is that." Lilly exclaimed, truly astounded.

"Right. You've not seen this before from below." Steven commented nonchalantly as he altered his course to avoid the growing storm. "Enjoy the show, it's one of ours." He added as the great bulk of the Warspite slipped through the clouds, descending upon the great flames generated by its fusion engine.


	9. Chapter 9

"Get that vehicle locked down." Melissa shouted above the deafening racket of the Warspite's mechbay. What had started as an orderly evacuation of the wounded had quickly turned into a chaotic affair as the plan changed to one of general withdraw. Her own column had come through fairly well, but Gibson's had caught the brunt of the airstrikes and had been cut up pretty badly. There hadn't been time for a loading plan, they had simply thrown mechs and vehicles into whatever space was available while the wounded were transported to the infirmary. Now that they were burning away from the planet, at a nice steady 1g, it had fallen to her to restore something resembling order so that repairs and maintenance could be carried out.

She pushed her way through the throng of mechwarriors, tankers, infantry, technicians and spacers directing the movement of mechs and vehicles, enforcing order on the chaos by sheer force of will. She found her husband directing repairs to his battered Awesome.

"Where's Chief Tech Tzu." She demanded. "He should be sorting this mess out."

"Bay 2, it's every bit as bad as here." Max replied. "I'm fine by the way." He added testily.

"I can see your fine. Plenty are not." Melissa sharply. "Where's Gibson. I haven't seen him."

"Infirmary." Max answered simply.

Melissa swore. "How badly?"

"Concussion and minor shrapnel damage." Max gestured up at the badly damaged Battlemaster in the neighbouring mechbay. "He head-butted a 500kg bomb, all in all he's pretty lucky to be in one piece."

"Great, then this mess is all mine then." Melissa couldn't quite keep a note of satisfaction out of her voice, though Max suspected he was likely the only person in the company who knew her well enough to pick it out from the anger. He was well aware she wanted more responsibility than a mere company command.

"Pretty much." He replied simply.

"Great." Melissa repeated. She scanned the mechbay, spotting the next problem even as it developed. "Hey you two." Melissa shouted as she stalked off after the errant movers. Max let her go. Melissa's straight forward leadership was exactly what the company needed right now and if she hurt some feelings in the process that was the price of doing business. When things calmed down they would make up as they always did, but in the meantime Melissa the officer took priority over Melissa the wife. Annoyed though he was, and somewhat annoyed at himself for being annoyed, Max still felt a surge of pride as he watched his wife turn chaos into order. 

Separate from the main medbay, the Warspite's infirmary didn't offer much in the way of privacy for its patients, mere curtains separated the beds which were packed in as tightly as practical. Almost all of the beds were full while the overworked staff moved between patients, tending to them as required.

"When I said you could only come down here if you were injured I did not mean for you to keep getting injured." Dr Susan Gibson, the elder of the two Gibson siblings, complained bitterly as she stitched up the cut on her father's forehead.

"I…" Gibson started only to be cut off.

"I said don't move." Susan pulled gently but firmly on the thread, pulling the two flaps of skin together. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive? Half an inch to the left and you'd be in the morgue."

"I'm…"

"And then what." Susan cut him off again. "Make George an orphan, leave it to Kyle to train him, how would that work out?" She demanded as she tied a knot and dabbed the area with disinfectant. "Now lie down slowly and open your eyes wide."

Gibson swung his feet up and lay down on the couch as Susan produced a small torch, moving it back and forth across his eyes. His eldest was the spitting image of her mother when she had been younger. Tall, with auburn hair and the same fierce expression that brooked no argument when she was working.

"You've got a concussion and will have some more scars, but nothing too bad. Stay in bed, drink plenty of water you know the drill by now." Susan's voice lost its aggressive edge, settling down into concern mixed with fatigue as she sat down on the edge of the couch.

"Susan, I…." Gibson started gently, but she stopped him with a raised palm.

"I know." She said quietly, unable to look her father in the eye. "I don't blame you. Mother chose to follow you out here; it's not like she'd have listened if you'd told her not to...You didn't get her killed...But." Susan paused as she put her thoughts into words. "I haven't forgiven you. I need time, I need space. Let me deal with this my own way, then we can talk." She wiped away an errant tear.

Gibson stayed silent, but placed his hand over his daughter's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. They stayed that way for a few moments before Susan stood up abruptly. "I better finish my rounds." She said softly. "I'm declaring you unfit for duty for 48 hours." Her voice picking up its hard edge again. "Stay in bed, I mean it!"

Gibson didn't reply as Susan closed the curtains around his bed space. If he was going to be honest about it, he didn't know what to say anyway, there are some things that simply can't be fixed. He lay back with a sigh and closed his eye as he tried to ignore the pounding headache. He wasn't allowed to rest for long before the sound of the curtain being pulled aside woke him. Opening one eye he saw Nick, Kyle and George slipping into the enclosure, closing the curtain behind them.

"So who's protecting who from Susan?" Gibson whispered, only half joking.

"That's what we brought Nick for." Kyle quipped, though he also kept his voice down low. In the ring or in a mech the big, ginger haired Skyeman feared no one, but he had no defence against Susan's sharp tongue. "She's soft on him." He added, grinning at Nick's mortified response.

"How's the head?" George asked. Slightly shorter and significantly stockier than Susan, the younger Gibson sibling had the same auburn hair inherited from their mother, though his was cut much shorter for better connectivity with a neural helmet.

"Like someone took a sledgehammer to it." Gibson replied as he careful sat up and poured himself a drink. "What the situation."

"All mechs and armour are accounted for, though the damage is extensive. It's too early to say how much is repairable in the short term." Nick reported. "Melissa has the reorg well in hand, but we left a good company and a half of infantry behind in various hides and outposts. Our aerospace fighters lost 3 and claimed 13 kills in return, though I believe that's a serious over estimation. Yurika reports them ready for action in 8 hours. Both dropships are ready for immediate action."

"Better than might have been expected." Gibson said. "Down to business then. I'm going to be out of action for the next 48 hours. Melissa is in charge; I expect you all to give her your full support and crack skulls of anyone who still has a problem taking orders from a Marik." He noted the slightly too enthusiastic smiles worn by Kyle and George but continued anyway. "Nick, I want you to do for her what you do for me. Start drawing up plans, give her some options to work with, do not let her know I told you to." Nick nodded and Gibson turned to Kyle. "Kyle, get hold of Jenny and draw up a dream team of pilots. Work under the assumption we can only get a company back in the field, I want it to be the most dangerous company we can field."

"Twelve ultimate badasses. Roger." Kyle replied, his eyes lighting up with glee.

"Eight." Gibson corrected firmly. "Jenny gets her chance to show what she can do with a picked lance. She gets first pick." He turned to George.

"George, get Max and go talk to Major Vaughn. She'll be with her infantry in bay 3. Make sure she knows we haven't forgotten her or her troops. Make sure she knows we're working on a plan and we want her input." George smiled, pleased to be trusted with a measure of responsibility. "Any questions?"

"Nah, I think we got it." Kyle replied.

"Good, get out of here before Susan catches you. George stay a moment." Kyle and Nick snuck out, leaving Gibson and George alone.

"Are they gone?" Gibson asked quietly.

George risked a peek around the corner of the curtain. "Yes, they're gone."

"Good." Gibson groaned as he lay back down and covered his eyes with his hand, no longer feeling the need to mask the pain. "My head is killing me. Take a seat."

George pulled up a chair. "You're not well are you?" He asked, concerned.

"Concussions are not much fun." Gibson replied between gritted teeth. "If you follow no other advice I give you, follow this. Don't head-butt bombs, it hurts."

George stiffened a laugh, Gibson tried to join in but just ended up groaning in further pain. "Dad, if you're in this much pain you should rest."

"I will, I will." Gibson replied, waving away George's concern. "But, I don't get to talk to you much, humour me for a minute." He propped himself up on his elbows and pick up his glass of water, forcing himself to take a drink. "Kyle tells me your developing well as a pilot."

"I'm definitely improving, got my third kill last week." George swelled with pride at the memory.

"So I heard. Normally I'd be looking to move you up into the heavy lances as soon as we secure a mech for you to pilot. However, Kyle has requested permission to keep you as his second, says you're the only pilot in the company that can keep up with him."

George looked conflicted. On one hand being moved into either Sword or Rider lance was effectively a promotion and moving to a heavier mech would be an increase in prestige. On the other hand, he liked piloting his Griffin and enjoyed the freewheeling nature of missions under Kyle's command.

"You don't have to decide now." Gibson continued. "As I said we don't have a spare heavy mech at the moment anyway. I just wanted you to know that your performance has been noticed."

George smiled. "Thanks, I'll think about it."

"Good." Gibson replied. "You doing ok?"

George hesitated, his smile fading for a moment before he caught himself. "Yes, I think I am."

"Good." Gibson repeated then sighed. "I'm going to try and sleep. Go talk to Max, but pop back if you can, I miss talking."

"Will do Dad." George said as he stood up. "Get well soon and all that."

"Will try." Gibson groaned as he lay back down on his bed and closed his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

"What are we going to do sergeant?" Private Nial Evering asked as he watched two Clan technicians slowly replacing the wheel on their 4x4 as three Mortizian 'soldiers' and a Clan warrior looked on, bored disinterest evident on their faces.

"We watch, we observe and move out at night as planned." Sergeant William Zhao replied, his voice barely above a whisper. From his observation post he had watched the morning's aerial battle, had seen a dropship arrive and then depart and immediately realised what that meant for his troops and for himself. Marooned, left behind on an enemy planet with no immediate means of extraction. Still, that possibility had been foreseen and contingencies planned. Every outpost had rations that could be made to stretch to four days if necessary and transport hidden nearby. All they had to do was wait until nightfall and then slowly make their way back to the emergency landing zone. Once there, they could hide out until the Warspite could come back for them. A small voice in the back of his mind insisted on adding an 'if' to that statement.

"But, they could have the intel we've been looking for." Nial continued insistently. William gave it some thought. It was true that the regular weekly shuttle between the HPG Generator and the city had the look of a courtier service. It had also only started up after Comstar had realised he had set up a radio mast to intercept any transmissions they might make. But, the 'left behind' protocol was quite straight forward in this case, avoid contact at all costs.

"It's only two hours till night fall and there's only one unsuited Elemental and three rent-a-cops. It would be like taking candy from a baby." Nial pressed his point fiercely but quietly. For his part William was torn. Taking out the small 2 vehicle convoy would be child's play if he brought the rest of the squad up. Only the Elemental would be a threat and he seemed utterly disinterested in the whole affair, likely infuriated by being assigned such a low prestige job. It did go against protocol and his best judgement for that matter. But, he hadn't joined a 'commando' unit because he always followed protocol or listened to his better judgement.

"Ok, we're doing it. Go get the others." He ordered, ignoring the wide grin that sprouted on Nial's face and continued watching the Clanners as his younger companion crawled back to where the rest of the squad where hidden. He was half cheering the technicians on as they wrestled with the spare wheel. If they completed the job before his squad could be roused, then he could hardly be blamed for letting them go. But they worked slowly, almost lethargic. William wondered if they were like the rent-a-cops, conscripts from the local population rather than proper Clanners.

He didn't have long to wonder, the rest of his squad crawled through the undergrowth to meet him. Silently he signalled for his lance-corporal to take the second fire team with the machine gun further up the road to cut off anyone making a break for it. He waited silently with his fire team until the second was in position. "Wait for my shot." He whispered as he eased the safety off his laser rifle and aimed at the Elemental. He took a deep breath, held it briefly, then exhaled slowly before firing.

His shot struck the Elemental high in the chest, dropping him instantly. The rest of his fire team opened up as well and soon two of the rent-a-cops were down as well, killed before they had even realised they were under attack. The third bolted down the road trying to reach safety. He didn't make it as the machine gun cut him down.

Signalling the others to stay down, William stood up and slowly crept forwards, rifle up and ready as he advanced cautiously towards the vehicles. He gave each body a kick as he went by, before checking behind the vehicles. He found one of the technicians crouched over her colleague trying desperately to stem the bleeding from a wound on his leg. Shaking, she raised two blood stained hands to the sky as she stared down the barrel of William's rifle. He hesitated for a moment, looking round for further threats before slipping a field dressing out of his shoulder pocket and pressed it into her hand.

"Use this." He ordered and then turned about and signalled his squad to join him. Quickly he set up a perimeter and then he and Nial started ripping apart the vehicles looking for evidence. They didn't have to look far.

"Got something." Nial said as he pulled a large brown folder out from under the passenger seat. He opened it revealing page after page of scrambled numbers, letters and symbols with no obvious pattern.

William craned his neck to look over Nial's shoulder. "That will do." He declared as he signalled for his squad to break off back to their observation post.

"What do we do about them?" Nial asked, gesturing to the two technicians.

William hummed, then used the butt of his rifle to smash the vehicle's radio. "Leave them, they aren't going anywhere and someone will come looking for them sooner or later." He said as he ran over to the second vehicle and destroyed its radio as well, slashing the tires for good measure.

"We might regret that." Nial commented.

"You want to kill them?" William asked bluntly.

"Well no." Nial admitted, sounding embarrassed at the question.

"Good." William said firmly. "Now get back and help the others."

As Nial disappeared into the wood, William made a last check of the vehicles before heading back himself. Quickly he gathered up his backpack, already prepared for moving, and started chasing the rest of his squad to hurry up. To his surprise he saw Nial had sat down on his pack and was reading the contents of the folder.

"What are you doing!" He demanded angrily.

"I think I know what his is." Nial said, offering up the folder.

"You can read the code?" William asked doubtfully, instantly switching gears from angry to intrigued.

"No, but, there's a pattern. Look, every line starts with a random set of characters of differing length, but then there is always 7 characters, followed by 3 then 2. That's a date time group. Then the next bit is always..." William was impatiently making a hurry up gesture with his spare hand. "I think it's a name, followed by a date, followed by a galactic coordinate, followed by another date then another coordinate. I think this is a shipping schedule."

"And how would you know what a shipping schedule looks like?" William asked, still not convinced.

Nial blushed slightly. "I wanted to be a navigator when I was a kid, but you know son of two coal miners and all that."

William still looked doubtful, but also worried now. "If you right, this could be their invasion plans." He cursed under his breath and dragged Nial to his feet. "We need to run. Now!"

"Like we stole something?" Nial asked.

"Like we stole fire from the gods." William replied as he pushed Nial forwards. "Move it people, we are leaving now!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Day and night hold little relevance on a dropship. With all illumination coming from artificial sources and possessing a virtually inexhaustible power supply in the form of the ship's reactor, there was no particularly good reason to ever have less than perfect light conditions in the often dangerous, industrial environment of a dropship. However, the crew were not inexhaustible, nor was there sufficient space or life support for most dropships to carry enough crew to run routine 24 hour operations. Therefore, thought the bridge was lit no different than usual, it was currently 'night' and most of the Warspite's crew were asleep in their bunks. A fact that wasn't making Melissa very happy right now. Roused from her bunk, she had been called to the bridge for an urgent meeting.

She opened the hatch to find the night watch quietly going about their duties while Gerald, Nick and her husband poured over one of the displays. "Captain." She greeted Gerald formally as she stepped onto the bridge. Though she held seniority by virtue of being second in command, it was still his ship and there were protocols to be obeyed.

"Evening Ma'am." Gerald returned the formal greeting.

"Sorry to wake you, but there have been developments." Melissa was surprised by the sound of Yurika's voice coming from the display terminal. On closer inspection, she saw there was a small hologram of the Furious' Captain projected next to the solar system map.

"That's ok, I was awake anyway." Melissa lied as walked over to join them. She still hadn't made up her mind about the younger Captain, she recognised a façade when she saw one and didn't know her well enough yet to know what was behind it. "What's happened?"

"We've got two new contacts." Gerald replied, gesturing at the projection of the solar system in front of him. "The Carrier class dropship has departed Mortiz's orbit and is accelerating towards us. They will be in a position to intercept us in 17 hours." Gerald manipulated the display to show the positions of the dropships relative to each other. "And we've picked up an EM Pulse from the nadir jump point. We can't say for certain. But we suspect it is at least a warship."

Melissa took a moment to think this over before replying. "I'm a ground officer Gerald. Explain what all that means."

"In short, we will only get one run at the planet and we'll be doing it without the Furious and her fighters. They will be dealing with the Carrier." Gerald replied grimly. "That makes the whole thing significantly more dangerous. Ignoring that we will be landing with barely any air support, the Carrier will be reporting all our movements. Surprise will be impossible."

"There's also another variable." Max added. "Our captives have been talking amongst themselves, they didn't know we had bugged their cells. We now know why there's no blood named warriors here, why the invasion has stopped. A Rasalhague pilot killed their leader and all the blood named warriors had to return to their home system to elect a replacement. That warship that just jumped in. That is likely those warriors returning to restart the invasion and we are possibly the only people in the Inner Sphere who know that. We must ensure a warning is sent."

"Which is why we have woken you Captain." Yurika interjected. "We have two paths ahead of us. Either we fight our way to the surface, take on a superior force that can see us coming and risk failing our mission or we break for deep space, shake off our pursuit and meet with our jump ship and carry the news home."

"We have to make a decision." Gerald added. "Within the hour it will be too late to evade that Carrier."

Melissa blinked blankly for a moment, blindsided by the gravity of the decision in front of her.

"Gibson is still incapacitated." Max said softly. "It's your company Melissa."

Melissa hesitated. She felt overwhelmed by the information she had just been given. Yesterday she had been in command of a mech company responsible for 11 other pilots, now she was being asked to decide the fate of nearly 500 men and women as well as success or failure of the entire mission. 'This is what you wanted' a small voice in the back of her head said.

"Yes it is." She whispered, so quietly that only Max heard. She ignored his questioning look and snapped back into commander mode. She turned to the hologram of Yurika. "Yurika, you have a shuttle, can it make it to our jumpship?"

The hologram shook its head. "We've ran the numbers. It doesn't carry enough fuel to get there quick enough."

"Ok." Melissa dismissed the thought immediately, she swung round to face Nick. "Any other options?"

"Only tactical variations." Nick replied with a sad shake of his head. "We either fight or we run."

"Right." Melissa, nodded her head as she stared at the tactical display with fierce concentration. "Opinions." She ordered without looking up. "Gerald."

"We came here to get information and we've got it." Gerald replied matter of factly. "I give us a 30% chance of survival if we attempt a landing. I vote withdraw."

"Noted." Melissa replied. "Yurika."

"I can take that Carrier." The determination in Yurika's voice impressed Melissa, that at least was not an act. "I say we fight."

"Max."

Max hesitated to respond, the way he always did when he didn't like what he had to say. "As much as I hate to say this. The mission is the most important thing here. We've achieved our primarily mission, but only if we withdraw now. This information needs to get back."

"Nick."

Nick started, not expecting his opinion to be asked. "I'm a Logandale Mechwarrior, we don't abandon our infantry." He said as if stating a self-evident fact.

Melissa didn't immediately say anything, but continued to stare at the display. The others remained silent, waiting for her to make the decision. At length, she straightened up.

"We fight." She stated simply. "Wake the other officers, form a planning group. I want a better than 30% chance of being alive in three days' time. Yurika we'll leave that Carrier class to you."

"Roger. Good luck." Yurika replied as the hologram winked out. Melissa turned Gerald. "Are you on board with this Captain."

He looked surprise. "This is an old ship Ma'am, lot of history in these bulkheads. We won't let you down."

"Good." Melissa replied. "Because this is going to be win or die." she warned grimly.

"We won't let you down." Gerald reaffirmed. "Six or Styx. We know the drill."


	12. Chapter 12

'This is nuts.'

Steven wasn't entirely sure when his world had gone mad. Maybe it was when Yurika had decided that she was going to attack the Carrier dropship rather than just decoy it. It might also have been when she had sent that outrageously haughty challenge demanding the 'trespassing' enemy dropship surrender or be destroyed. Most likely though it was when she had outlined her plan to make good on her threats.

Around him the hanger was a hive of activity as pilots and technicians went over last checks. There was still a good hour until they intercepted the Falcon Bane, 39 minutes until his wing launched. It felt good to finally have a name for their enemy, made them feel more human, more mortal. Their captain had not been amused with Yurika's challenge, his voice had dripped with fury as he delivered his caustic retort. But, he had accepted the challenge and if he was angry all the better, Yurika's plan relied upon him accepting the scenario presented to him and anger would cloud his judgement.

Bringing a ship to battle in space was not merely a case of arriving at the same point in space, you also had to arrive with a relative velocity low enough to make engagement possible. The Furious had first detected the Falcon Bane's drive plume at a distance of over 30 million km but their relative velocity had been in excess of 3 million kph. For an engagement to happen those figures had to be significantly reduced, which requires a strange form of cooperation between captains with a mutual desire to fight. In order to manage the deacceleration curve, both captains would have to make assumptions about their opponent's intentions. In the case of two fighter carrier dropships it was usually assumed that both wished to hold roughly 2,000km from each other and launch fighters. At that range their ECM would prevent their opposite numbers from locking onto them with weaponry while leaving sufficient room for their aerospace fighters to duel between them. Currently the Furious was following this script to the letter as was the Falcon Bane, both burning hard to reduce their relative velocity.

"Twenty minutes!" The Furious's chief tech shouted over the commotion, previously the senior engineering NCO on a Leopard CV Dropship he had taken to commanding the Furious' cadre of technicians like a duck to water.

"Right." Steven said to his ground crew. "Let's do this." Climbing into the cockpit he rushed through the usual pre-flight checks before starting the reactor. Confident that everything was in order he set all system to standby mode and powered down the reactor as low as he dared. As the ground crews loaded his Corsair into the catapult he set a timer on his watch for 18 minutes. Swapping thumbs up with the Catapult Chief, he braced himself for the acceleration that didn't come. Instead his aerospace fighter was eased out of the catapult tube, given the bare minimum velocity needed to clear the safe zone around the Furious' engine plumb. From his prospective his fighter accelerated past the Furious along with the first half of his wing. In reality the Furious was really deaccelerated while Steven's fighter merely carried on at the velocity it was launched at. This was the heart of Yurika's plan, it would be another 21 minutes before the Furious and Falcon Bane reached launch positions, but Steven's wave would reach the Falcon Bane in 18 minutes, hopefully before they had a chance to launch fighters.

In the mean time, it was vital to avoid detection and so Steven sat in silence as his craft sped across the distance. With the reactor on standby and radar turned off he was making no detectable emissions while the high energy ions thrown out by both the Furious and Falcon Bane's engines would interfere with the Falcon Bane's radar. He checked his watch nervously, 12 minutes until interception. The glow of the Falcon Bane's engine was clearly visible in front of him, no news from the Furious was good news, presumable the Falcon Bane was still following the script and more importantly they still believed Yurika was following that script as well. Steven could feel himself start to panic as his mind ran through all the ways this could go wrong. He forced the feeling down, forced himself to breath, to focus on routine checks in order to burn time as his target drew ever closer. 6 minutes now, soon he would be close enough for the Falcon Bane to detect him on their radar. 5 minutes, the enemy dropship was still just a pin prick of light in the distance. 4 minutes, radar warning alarms started to go off in Steven's cockpit and he nearly booted his reactor. Something made him hesitate, there was still no reaction from the Falcon Bane, their beam had cut across him, but they hadn't picked his fighters out from the interference. He licked his lips and checked his watch, 3 minutes, a series of small lights split off from the larger flare that marked the Falcon Bane and began to manoeuvre independently.

"That tears it." Steven swore as he recognised the enemy fighters for what they were and brought his reactor up to full power, the rest of his aerospace fighter's systems coming on as power was made available. His radar came on, the on-board computer rapid processing the incoming information and populating his HUD with contacts. He resisted the temptation to accelerate toward the 10 omnifighters hurtling towards him, they were already closing with a relative velocity of 30,000kph.

"Steady." He radioed to his wing as the distance shrank rapidly between them and the defending omnifighters.

"Steady." Steven watched the range ticked down, counting the seconds in his head.

"Evasive manoeuvres, now." He threw his aerospace fighter to the side, randomly hitting his thrusters to throw off his opponents aim. Missiles, lasers, ions and autocannon shells slashed past, a ER PPC blast smashing into his nose, but the damage was only superficial as he hurtled past the Omnifighters. Only now did they realise the impossible position they had been placed in. By accelerating to meet the attackers as far from their dropship as possible, they were moving too fast to effective engage and were now left far behind, desperately trying to catch up as Steven's fighters closed in on their target.

The Falcon Bane was still only a spec of light to Steven's eye, but it was the only contact left on his screen. Realising he was the main target, the dropships captain has turned to port and was trying to burn clear of his attackers. He didn't have enough space or time. Steven turned to port and flipped his fighter over on its nose, firing his engine he simultaneously decreased his closing velocity while following his target. Again, he forced himself to breath as the range shrank, with a relative velocity of 18,000kph he knew he would only have 30 seconds to make the shot, he also knew he wouldn't have time for a second. His finger hovered over the trigger as his computer made the calculations needed to engage over these distances. He waited until the targeting circle turned green, until the tone changed to the solid lock on sound, then he waited some more, waited until he was within range for both his medium and large lasers, then he fired. 4 invisible lines of light shot out, burning holes in the Falcon Bane's rear armour. Alone, he barely scratched the inches of ablative armour that covered the Falcon Bane's hull, combined with fire of the rest of the of his wing they stood a chance of doing serious damage. Fire blazed across the hull of the Falcon Bane as the first wave of Corsairs and Sparrowhawks passed behind it, the dropship's armour melting under their furious barrage.

"It's still up." Lilly shouted in dismay.

"Stay in formation." Steven ordered firmly, he wasn't watching the Falcon Bane, he was waiting for the second wave.

A minute behind the first wave, the Corsairs of the second wave had used the confusion caused by the first wave to slip past the Omnifighter screen unmolested and now homed in on the Falcon Bane. Oliver led them in close, to within 40km, spitting distance in the vastness of space, before opening fire. The concentrated barrage tore into the already weakened armour, cutting deep into the fabric of the ship. For a moment, there was nothing as the aerospace fighters hurtled past and beyond the range of the dropships defences, then a small explosion rocked Falcon Bane, followed by another, then another as the port thruster assembly ripped itself apart.

"Good hit!" Steven shouted.

"She's not destroyed. Do we go back Sven?" Lilly asked.

Steven weighted up the options. They had fuel to deaccelerate for a second pass, but the omnifighters would arrive first and this time they would be ready for them.

"No, we've mission killed her. Break for home." Steven ordered, deciding that loses he would take did not justify potentially finishing off the crippled dropship. "Dragon Leader to Furious, target is crippled, breaking contact."

"Roger that Dragon Leader. Move to rendezvous point Charlie Echo."

"Understood, Dragon out." Steven replied. His wing was already accelerating away from the tumbling Falcon, with a significant head start on the Clan omnifighters and deeper fuel tanks they had little to fear from interception. They would accelerate away until the pursuit gave up, at which point they would use their spare fuel to slow down and await pick up by the Furious.

"Hey Sven." Lilly transmitted across to his fighter as she took up position on his wing. "Switch on the open frequency for a minute. You'll want to hear this."

As he did so Steven was greeted by the outraged curses and insults of the Falcon Bane's Captain. "Cowardly dezgra scum. Ikiri, you dishonourably freebirth stravag!" A loud burst of static followed as the Furious' radio cut across the Falcon Bane's signal, creating a blanket of white noise. When it subsided Yurika's voice came through loud and clear.

"If you must try and insult me at least get the name right." She demanded firmly. "I am Captain Yurika Ikari, commanding officer of the Free Rasalhague Vessel, Furious. Remember that name, you will be hearing more of it."


	13. Chapter 13

Covering nearly 20 square km, Logan's Lament was a blighted wasteland amongst the greenery of Mortiz. Surrounded by foothills and not easy to access except by a single neglected approach road, it was a forbidding land still cratered and scorched by orbital bombardment during the 1st Succession War. A bombardment so fierce it had stripped the soil back to the bedrock, leaving a deep depression in the ground punctuated by tall granite columns and colonised only by the hardiest of shrubs and the most stubborn of stunted trees. It had only one redeeming feature, its hard rocky base was a ready made landing zone for a dropship. It was here, amongst the ruins of a once powerful fortification, that the marooned infantry had gathered to await evacuation.

It had been four days since the Warspite's departure and since then the various isolated commands had drifted in and tried to dig in as best as possible in the hard, rocky ground. As the most senior officer left planetside Captain Watson had taken charge and formed them into a scratch company of three platoons, Lieutenants Draven and Canaan were placed in charge of the northern and eastern platoon while Sergeant Zhao was given the western platoon. He had had his troopers spread themselves out amongst what little cover was available and ready their limited stocks of shoulder launched SRMs. He suspected it would be merely a defiant gesture if Clan Wolf found them, the SRMs were proving of little use against Elementals, but at least they would go down fighting.

William's radio crackled. "Sarg. Somethings coming."

"Roger." William acknowledged the transmission. He'd dispatched Nial to climb one of the granite pillars to give early warning of anyone approaching. Now he had reason to be glad of that decision. Dispatching his runner to pass the warning, he hunkered down into his shell scrape as he listened to Nial's report.

"2 mechs….white armour…..Ostscouts….I think they are Comstar."

"Comstar." William muttered under his breath. He frowned unhappily as he relayed the message back to Captain Watson. The amount of Comstar activity of late was unprecedented; he'd seen more of their mechs in the past three weeks than he'd seen in the rest of his 10 year career combined. It was beginning to seriously concern him.

The two Ostscouts moved slowly, deliberately, as they stalked through the maze of pillars. They swung their bodies from side to side as they walked, scanning, obviously looking for something. For a moment William thought they might pass him by, but then the lead one stopped and pointed its medium laser directly at him.

"I know your there Commando. You might as well come out and talk to me."

William cursed. Signalling the rest of his platoon to stay put he stood up and tried to look nonchalant as he walked towards the towering warmachine.

"You're a long way from home mechwarrior." He shouted up at the lead Ostscout. "What do you want?"

"I would talk to your commanding officer." The mech boomed back.

"Who's asking." William demanded, feeling slightly ridiculous to be shouting demands up a 12 meter tall mech that could annihilate him in an instant. Still, his troopers' eyes were on him and the SRMs that gave such cold comfort against Elementals could make a right mess of the two scout mechs facing him. He drew courage from that fact.

"I am Adept Jenner. I say again, I insist on speaking to your commanding officer."

"One minute." William unhooked his radio and held it up to his ear. "Boss, I've got two Comstar mechs here, they want to talk to you."

There was a short delay before anyone responded. "On my way." Captain Watson replied tersely. It only took a few minutes for the Captain to join William. Putting on his best angry frown, Watson glared up at the mechs.

"Your giving away our position. That's a direct violation of your neutrality. Get lost." He shouted up at them, if he was intimidated he showed no sign of it.

"You've got something that belongs to us." Adept Jenner replied dismissively. "We demand its return."

"Anything we might have was taken in battle with the Clanners and is ours by right of salvage." Watson shouted back defiantly.

"Last chance, return our documents and we will leave you in peace." Jenner replied, his voice picking up an edge of menace.

"You can't scare us Adept, we know you can't risk attacking us." Watson shouted back. "You can't hurt us."

Jenner hesitated to reply, when he did he sounded exasperated. "Only directly. I must report your response to command…at length."

William and Watson exchanged looks. "He's going to give away our position isn't he sir?"

"Yes he is." Watson's frustration easy to read in his voice. "And there's nothing we can do, get your men ready for a fight sergeant. The Clanners will be here soon." Watson stalked off into the undergrowth, leaving William alone in front of the mechs.

"To hell with you." William cursed the Comstar mechs.

"For what it's worth." Adapt Jenner replied. "I don't like this either. May Blake's light shine upon you."

William didn't know quite what to make of that and could only watch as the two Ostscouts completed their message and disappeared back the way they had came. He turned back to his platoon; his troopers looked back at him, concerned, uncertain.

"You all heard the Captain." William said firmly. "The Clanners will be here soon, so get yourselves ready. If you've got any food left, eat it. If you've got any smokes, smoke um. All we have to do is hold them long enough for the Major to get here." He regarded his troopers trying to judge their mood. "But in the meantime, we've going to give um hell." Some of the troops nodded in agreement, others just gripped their weapons tighter and frowned grimly. It told William what he needed to know, they would stand and that was all they needed to do.

'If the Major comes.' The voice in the back of his mind insisted on adding.


	14. Chapter 14

The Warspite's mechbay was never a quiet place. Something always needed fixing and inevitably the space was filled by the crashing sounds of steel on steel and the crackling of the welding torch. None the less it seemed conspicuously empty to Gibson as he walked to his mech. "Where is everyone?" Gibson asked out loud as he examined the repairs to his Battlemaster. The technicians ignored him; they had too much work to do to humour what seemed like a nonsensical question to them. He hadn't expected a response anyway; it wasn't the technicians that were missing, but the mechwarriors. Walking around his mech he ran his hands over the weld marks denoting where new plates had replaced those damaged in combat. Drawing his hand away he was surprised to see black paint on his fingertips. While the technicians had left replacement plating unpainted on the other mechs, they had taken the time to repaint his mech, returning it to the menacing pure black livery that was his family's trade mark.

Moving away from his mech Gibson moved amongst the other mechs that would make up his scratch company. There would only be 14 of them, he'd started the mission with 24 and there were 6 empty mechbays to mark those irretrievably lost. Pushing that depressing thought aside, he forced himself to focus on the upcoming battle. The heavy lance would hold up he was sure. A Battlemaster, two Awesomes, a Crusader and Thunderbolt made for a respectable core of heavy firepower. The light lance too, seemed solid; 2 Clints, a Javalin and Stinger should do the job. The medium lance though, was a little suspect. Two Wolverines and a Griffin made a solid foundation but the two Valkyries were mostly there to make up the numbers, too lightly armed to count in the melee they were about to be thrown into. Walking over to the Griffin, Gibson stared up at his son's mech. Refitted for close assault the LRMs had been landed in favour of SRMs and a pair of medium lasers; in a curious way it gave it the look of a smaller version of Gibson's own Battlemaster. He wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Caught up in his own thoughts he didn't notice Melissa walk up behind him.

"Worried?" She asked.

"No." Gibson lied unconvincingly. "He's a good mechwarrior. He'll do fine."

"But, you wonder if you should have brought him along?" Melissa pressed her point.

Gibson turned round, taking the opportunity to check they were alone in the Griffin's cubicle. "2ic to IC, What do you make of our odds?" He asked bluntly.

Melissa glanced around double checking they were alone. She had done so before approaching Gibson but felt the need to make sure. "Poor." She answered honestly. "We have minimal air support and we're relying on getting in and out before they can mobilise against us. Except they know we're coming."

Gibson nodded. "I agree. So if you're asking if I'm worried that having led my wife to her death, I'm about to do the same with my children, then yes, I'm worried." Anger and frustration colouring his tone.

"Sorry." Melissa replied, embarrassed.

"Don't be." Gibson responded, moderating his tone. "I made my choices, they made theirs." He lent back against the Griffin's foot before continuing. "We're both mechwarriors from mechwarrior families; we knew the drill before we came out here. Some of us will live, some of us will die, there is no changing that."

"Aye." Melissa sighed deflatedly as she sat down on a crate of spare parts. They sat facing each other in awkward silence for nearly a minute before Melissa spoke again. "Look I know I shouldn't ask. But did I make the right call?"

"You're a fine officer Melissa, don't doubt yourself." Gibson replied, deliberately not answering the question.

"I know, but for my sanity. Did I make the right call?" Melissa insisted forcefully.

"For what it's worth you made the call I would have made." Gibson sounded tired as he replied. "But, we both know that sacrificing a mech company to rescue an infantry company is not a smart military decision."

"That's the thing." Frustration was clear in Melissa's voice. "I know that. This isn't how I was trained! I was taught to find the solution that puts you at the greatest advantage and prosecute it ruthlessly. I don't understand why I chose to do otherwise."

Gibson fished around in his jacket pocket before produced a hip flask and offering it to Melissa. She took it and drank a shot.

"So why did you?" Gibson asked.

"It just seemed like the right thing to do." Melissa said simply.

"Then that's why you did it." Gibson replied. "We have conflicting duties. On one hand we have a duty to our paymasters, but we also have a duty to our subordinates…"

"You're teaching me to suck eggs Gibson." Melissa cut in, annoyed. "What are you getting at?"

Gibson held his hand out for his hip flask. Taking it he took a deep draught. "We left 116 troopers behind on Mortiz. We put them in danger and it's not in either of us to just abandon them."

Melissa frowned. "So I chose to get more of my troops killed instead." She sounded disappointed in herself. "After everything, I wasn't willing to make the hard choice after all."

Gibson shook his head in disagreement. "You make a decision, as was required of you." His voice picked up a hard edge that didn't brook argument. "Someone was always going to die today. No decision you could have made could possibly have changed that. You chose to give those we left behind a fighting chance to live. You did that because that is what Melissa Rivers does when her troops are in trouble, she gets them out. It's why this mongrel command of Davions, Steiners and Dracs is willing to follow a Marik, because they know that regardless how screwed up the situation is, you will come for them."

Melissa hummed as she thought about it. "I think your madness might be catching." She replied with a slight smile.

Gibson lent back and laughed, laughed harder than he had done since Ridderkek many months previous, before the disastrous battle that had cost his wife her life along with many others of the company. "I think all good mech officers are a little insane." He said, wiping a tear away from his eye as he tried to stiffen the laughter. "Comes with the territory."

"So how are we going to pull this off then?" Melissa asked, stifling her own laughter.

"Same way we usually do. Hit them as hard as possible, hurt them as much as possible and run like hell before they realise how few of us there actually are." Gibson replied with a confident grin. "Where is everyone else anyway? I'd expected to see more people fussing over their mechs."

"Kyle's holding a prayer session. I gather most of the company decided to attend."

"We're not the only people worried then." Gibson frowned and then stood up. "Well at least everyone knows we're up against it. I'm going to steal some sleep while I can. Wake me when the recon report comes back and let Gerald know I'll want to address the whole company before we drop."

Two hours later the mechbay was still a scene of organised chaos as technicians and mechwarriors jockeyed for space as last minute repair and adjustments were made. Gibson had only managed sleep in short fitful bursts and felt no better for it. Still, he forced himself to adopt the angry frown his troops had come to expect as he pushed through the press towards his mech. Some offered a greeting as he passed, which he acknowledged with a slight nod of the head. Most didn't notice him; they were far too busy with their own taskings. The mood was subdued he noted, an underlying sense of doom prevailed the bay.

Reaching his Battlemaster he climbed up the rope ladder and swung over to stand on the mech's shoulder. As requested the technicians had rigged up a handheld microphone to the ships tannoy system. Taking the radio mike in hand he swept his gaze over the mechbay before pressing the send button. The sound of pipes playing blazed from the tannoy speakers, an old naval tradition, before a pregnant pause filled the air as everyone waited to hear what was to be said.

"This is Major Gibson." He spoke loud enough that the occupants of the bay could hear unaided, but the tannoys transmitted his voice throughout the ship. "One hundred and sixteen. That's how many of our comrades are still on Mortiz. If anyone is in any doubt about why we are going back into the crucible that is why." He paused for effect, letting that thought sink in before continuing. "Be under no illusions, we are walking into the fire this time. But, our comrades are fighting for their lives, we will not abandon them." Gibson's voice grew to a crescendo as genuine angry leaked into his words. "Commandos do not leave their own behind!" He was almost shouting before he forced himself to take a breath and get his volume back under control. "Watch your formation and stay with your leaders. Anyone gets in your way, don't hesitate, give them everything you've got. But, if you find yourself separated, if you're lost and you don't know what to do. Look for where the fire is heaviest, the fight the fiercest. That's where you'll find me; rally on me and I'll see you through." Releasing the mike he overlooked his assembled troops trying to gauge their reaction.

"Three cheers for the regiment!" Kyle's distinctive voice cut through the silence.

"The regiment!" Came back the answering cheer.

"For our comrades!" Kyle shouted.

"Our comrades!" The bay replied.

Kyle looked up at Gibson, meeting his eyes. "For the Major!"

"The Major!" The mech bay reverberated with the response.

"Right then, you heard the boss." Melissa stepped up onto a crate so she could be seen above the crowd. "Get to your mechs. We've a job to do!"

As mechwarriors scrambled to their mechs and technicians to their posts, Kyle held his ground briefly. Looking up, he met Gibson's gaze and offered up an informal salute and supportive smile. Gibson nodded in acknowledgement and turned to climb into his mech's cockpit. As he closed the canopy he heard the Skyeman's distinctive voice again, singing this time.

"Glory Glory what a hell of a way to die.  
Jump from 40,000 feet and don't know how to fly.  
Glory Glory what a hell of a way to die.  
And he ain't gonna jump no more."


	15. Chapter 15

"Fire right! Fire right!" William shouted as the Fire Moth closed in on his platoon's position. Belatedly the platoon began to shift their fire onto the light mech sending SRMs streaking towards the onrushing mech. Undeterred; the small Clan mech strode through the missiles, riding the impacts as the range closed.

"Take cover!" William ordered as he saw the Fire Moth bring its weapons up. Laser and machine gun fire slashed through the air, chewing up the ground around the infantry's foxholes. William crouched down in his foxhole as rounds zipped through the air above his head. When the firing stopped he popped back up, defiantly fired at the now rapidly retreating Fire Moth. It was a vain effort, his laser rifle's bolts were absorbed harmlessly by the light mech's armour.

"Man down!" Someone to his left shouted. William risked a glace behind him, at a rough guess that attack run had cost him another 3 casualties, that made 11 already. He wanted to help them, wanted to evacuate them to safety. But, there was nowhere to evacuate them to, no help he could give them.

"Reload!" He shouted over the cries of the wounded. "They will be back." Already he could feel the ground pounding as the second Fire Moth began its run. The two mechs had been alternating attacks for the last few minutes, slowly but surely wearing down the defenders. The situation was getting more desperate and more desperate with no hope of relief. Lieutenant Draven was pinned down by an Alder to the north while Lieutenant Canaan's platoon had been caught in the open by a Kit Fox and chewed up pretty badly when they had tried to come to William's aid.

"Here he comes!" One of William's troopers shouted a warning before bringing her SRM launcher up to her shoulder and firing. The ground shock as the Fire Moth pounded forwards, firing SRMs as it closed. William fired for as long as he dared as the explosions walked their way towards him. At the last moment he ducked into his foxhole, but not quick enough. He felt a dull thud as a piece of shrapnel tore a chuck out of his helmet. The impact snapped his head back and dropped him to the bottom of his foxhole. In a panic he pushed his left hand under his helmet feeling for blood, to his relief he found none, his helmet had taken the worse of it. Sticking his head up out of foxhole he ignored the fresh shouts of man down and watched the Fire Moth as it retreated well out of range. William unclipped his radio.

"Nial are you still with us, what do you see?"

"Still here Sarg. There's a good star hanging back in reserve, mostly medium and lights. I don't know what they are waiting for." Nial replied, his voice barely a whisper. Deployed well forward of the platoon's position as a sentry, so far he had avoided detection but was now completely cut off.

William wasn't sure what they were waiting for either. Clan Wolf had already deployed a more than adequate force to overrun the scratch company in front of them so what were they waiting for?

"Hang on got some movement." Nial's voice came across the radio. "Oh hell….Element…." The radio cut to static.

"Nial!" William shouted, though he already knew his friend was dead. He cursed loudly and reset his radio to the general frequency. "Elementals, Elementals, Elementals." He shouted the warning across the net and rechecked his battery clip. "Anne, Virgil, Ewan, ammo count!"

"3 missiles." Anne reported. "7." Virgil shouted as he tossed Anne two of his spare SRMs. "4." Ewan added his count to the total.

William cursed under his breath. He was running out of launchers and missiles, that was far too few to hold off a single point of Elementals and there would be at least a star's worth.

"Hold fire until they are at point blank range." He shouted the order to his platoon. He tried to find some inspiring words, but came up empty so he fell back on what he knew. "Give them hell!" He shouted. There was no audible response, no cheering, no defiant yelling, just determined men and women gripping their weapons a little tighter.

With far more grace than a 20ton walking tank should be able to muster, the first Fire Moth ran back into view. Firing its medium pulse lasers from long range it lay down suppressing fire as the Elementals deployed, bouncing forward on their jump jets, spreading out and making maximum use of the scant cover as they advanced.

"Steady." William shouted as the Elementals drew closer. "Steady." He gripped his rifle close to him as he judged the range. 400 meters now. "Steady." Even as he watched the Elementals he became aware of a whistling round steadily growing into a banshee wail. "What the hell?" Someone to his right demanded. William couldn't tell who, he was too busy looking up at the pair aerospace fighters diving on his position.

"Get down." He shouted the warning to his platoon as he saw each fighter release a string of bombs. Ducking down into his foxhole he closed his eyes and opening his mouth as he waited for the inevitable explosion. The pressure wave from the explosions washed over him, the very ground shaking from the concussion as dirt rained down upon him, choking him. Partially deafened, he stood up ready to fire, only to see to his surprise that the bombs had not landing among his platoon's foxholes, rather they had landed in front of them, amongst the attacking Elementals, leaving a curtain of dust and smoke in front of him. A lone suit, its armour badly damaged stumbled forwards out of the smoke only to be finished off by a pair of missiles from Anne and Ewan.

To his right he could see Virgil pointing at the receding aerospace fighters, shouting something excitedly. "They're ours" Virgil shouted again in elation as the two Corsair aerospace fighters rapidly climbed in order to regaining altitude after their bombing run.

"More than that!" William shouted back as he pointed to 14 fiery stars falling towards the earth like tiny meteorites. "The cavalry's here."


	16. Chapter 16

The ground shook as Gibson's Battlemaster slammed into the ground. Reigniting his jump jets his mech leapt forward as he engaged the first Fire Moth with his PPC. Around him the rest of the company was doing much the same as they formed up on their leaders and engaged any targets that presented themselves, mostly the scattered remains of the elemental star.

"Stalker Leader, take your lance and chase off that Adder and Kit Fox, then come up on my right flank." Gibson ordered as he rapidly digester the tactical situation.

"Got it. Stalker Lance, on me." Kyle acknowledged as he peeled off from the main body and charged off towards the Adder currently harassing Lieutenant Draven's platoon, the rest of the medium lance in hot pursuit. Gibson was about to give Eagle Lance their orders but Jenny had already got them in motion. Splitting her command into mech pairs she took hers left while Nick led the second pair to the right as they looked to bypass the star in front of them. Reconnaissance from aerospace fighters had indicated that a full trinity was heading for Logan's Lament to back up the binary already engaged; Jenny's job was to find it and she had already worked out how she was going to do it. That just left Gibson's own lance. They had a tactically more straightforward if no easier job. They just had to occupy the Clanners already engaged for the 5 minutes it would take for the Warspite to land and the evacuation APC's to reach the infantry. 5 minutes, both no time at all, and an eternity in combat.

"Rider Lance, follow me!"

With Melissa and Max's Awesomes on the left, Seong's Crusader and Ryan's Thunderbolt on the right and Gibson's Battlemaster at the point, the heavy lance advanced in a tight wedge formation laying down disciplined volleys as it did so. Badly out massed and caught off guard, the Clan mechwarriors none the less rallied quickly. Using their superior speed to open up the range, they sprinting forward to open fire and then darting back to cool down between volleys.

"Steady." Melissa shouted encouragement to the lance as they continued their slow advance. She ignored the sporadic weapons fire impacted her Awesome's flank, certain that its armour would hold and instead focused on her gunnery.

"Make for that pillar." Gibson ordered, pointing with his Battlemaster's right arm at one of the granite pillars that punctuated the blasted landscape of Logan's Lament. "We'll make our stand there." A muffled explosion sounded to his right as Ryan's headless Thunderbolt tottered and then crashed to the floor, the impact setting off the missiles in its shoulder launcher. "And someone kill that bloody Ice Ferret." Gibson added angrily.

"Roger." Melissa replied as she lined up the Ice Ferret in her sights. The range was long and the target evasive, running for safety after delivering the fatal ER PPC shot, but Melissa had his measure. She picked her moment, waited for the Ice Ferret to begin turning before firing. A trio of man-made lightning bolts lanced out, smashing into Clan mech throwing it off balance. Moments later Max added his fire to the volley and the Ice Ferret toppled over backwards, its left arm flying off, severed at the elbow.

"Great shot." Seong shouted triumphantly as she fired a volley of LRM's at a jinxing Mist Lynx. By now the Clan mechwarriors had surrounded Rider Lance, forcing their Inner Sphere opponents to split their fire to keep their enemy at bay. Doggedly Rider Lance pressed forward, relying on their thick armour to protect them as the Clan pilots ahead of them were forced to concede ground or face a massive superiority of fire head on. Reaching the pillar they formed a loose circle around it, each mech using the solid granite to protect their vulnerable rear armour.

"I've got the Warspite on radar, two minutes." Max reported through gritted teeth as he rode the impact of a flight of LRMs, returning fire with his ER PPCs.

"Two minutes, no problem." Seong replied flippantly.

"Cut the chatter, stay sharp." Gibson ordered. His own mech was scared from weapon impacts, but the Viper A facing him had already learned to avoid lingering in PPC range. Smoke boiled from several holes in its torso armour, slow fires burning in its internal structure. "Keep them at range. Don't let them mass their fire."

"30% ammo." Seong reported as she sent another flight of LRMs chasing after the Mist Lynx. "How much longer Sir?"

"Not much longer, hold on." Gibson replied as he kept one eye on the tactical reports. The Warspite was setting down now while overhead a pair of Corsairs valiantly strove to occupy the attention of 6 omnifighters, desperately trying to prevent them attacking the vulnerable dropship. He made a quick time estimation for the armour and infantry to deploy and extraction to begin, coming up with a number that was far too high. "Stalker Leader, where are you?"

"Got held up. On my way." Kyle replied as his lance pounded its way back towards the heavy lance. He'd crippled the Adder, tore its engine clean out of its chest, and forced the Kit Fox to withdraw but it hadn't been without cost. The Adder pilot had gone down hard, taking one of the Valkyries and most of Kyle's armour with her. Pounding past the dug in infantry, Stalker Lance bore down upon the light mechs that encircled Rider Lance.

"Spread out, herd them into the heavies." Kyle ordered, his lance fanning out in response. Belatedly realising their precarious position the Clan pilots abandoned their harassing fire and scattered, trying to escape the closing trap. Most made it, but a Mist Lynx and Fire Moth found themselves cut off. In avoiding Stalker Lance the Mist Lynx ran afoul of Melissa, concentrated PPC fire smashed in the Clan Mech, cutting through its torso armour, crippling its gyro. The Fire Moth tried to go the other way and breakout through the closing net. He almost made it, but George rushed his mech into the gap, his Griffin's outstretched leg just clipping the Fire Moth's ankle, sending it sprawling. The downed mech didn't last long.

"Good timing Stalker Leader." Gibson shouted as he fired another PPC blast at the Viper. He was about to continue when Jenny's transmission cut across him, urgency clear in her voice. "This is Eagle Leader. I have made contact with enemy trinity. They are 90 seconds out from your position repeat 90 seconds out from your position."

"Roger that Eagle Leader." Gibson replied, and then was interrupted again.

"Rider Leader this is Warspite. We are being engaged by 4 heavy omnimechs. They are out ranging the Schreks and outrunning the Bulldogs. We need mech support immediately."

"It doesn't rain but it pours." Max complained bitterly.

"Wait out!" Gibson ordered forestalling any further comments. "Kyle cover the infanty's withdraw and keep these skirmishers busy. Jenny stay in contact with that trinity and keep me posted of its movements. Rider Lance we're taking on those heavies. Everyone else we hurry the ****** up and get off this rock, we've got company." Without waiting for questions he dragged his Battlemaster round and pushed her to her maximum speed back towards the landing zone, the rest of his lance close behind him.

"Gibson." Kyle radioed Gibson on a private channel. "If that trinity gets here, I'm not going to be able to stop them."

"I know. Once the infantry is clear, withdraw to the LZ." Gibson clarified his orders.

"And if the infantry is not clear?" Kyle asked hesitantly.

"Do what you can." Gibson said bluntly.

"Got it." Kyle replied soberly. "Stalker Lance, reform on me. We've work to do."


	17. Chapter 17

"Report!" Gibson directed the order at his armour commander as he rapidly approached the LZ. The great bulk of the Warspite filled his view screen, its flanks scared by weapons fire and burned by a hurried re-entry, yet she was still operational and the area around her swarmed with troops preparing her for departure.

"Captain Schaffer's dead Sir." A scared voice came back across his radio.

"Who is this?" Gibson demanded.

"Lieutenant Beyer, err Panther 3-1, err Sir." Gibson's mind rapidly searched though the command roster. Lance commander, 2nd Bulldog Lance he remembered.

"Then you report!" He barked the order as his mech rounded the Warspite and he got his first view of the battlefield beyond. 400 meters from the dropship 3 Schrek PPC Carriers were engaged in an unequal duel with a Stormcrow, Timberwolf and Hellbringer. A fourth Schrek was burning someway behind them. A good 500m to the right of the Schreks, the wrecks of 4 Bulldog tanks burned fiercely. Lieutenant Beyer's lance was holed up in a depression behind the PPC Carriers

"They came on us all of a sudden sir." Beyer tried to collect his wits as he gave his report. "They kept sniping from beyond the Schrek's range so the Captain led his lance forward to try and flank them...They were wiped out."

"Roger." Gibson acknowledged Beyer's report as he rapidly scanned the various tactical displays projected in his HUD. "Melissa, Max. Move up and take over the Schreks, keep those omnimechs out of range of the Warspite." Gibson ordered his 2iC forward as he brought his mech to a halt alongside Beyer's tank. "Any survivors?" He asked, pointing towards the burning wrecks.

"I think so." Beyer replied hesitantly.

"Then why have they been left there!" Gibson snapped, struggling to keep his cool. After a manic run back to the landing zone he was in no mood to accept the chaotic scene in front of him.

"I, err, I thought I would just be getting my lance killed too…I requested mech support." Beyer blurted out.

Gibson forced himself to control his temper, the kid was scared, but he'd also made the right call. "You did good Beyer." He reassured his subordinate as he quickly worked up a plan, switching radio frequencies as he did so. "Major Vaughn, I need 2 APCs and a half platoon for rescue duty. Target is the burning Bulldogs; tell them to follow my mech."

"Roger, deploying now." Major Vaughn replied. She had been waiting for her infantry to be called upon the moment Captain Schaffer's lance had been wiped out; a medevac team was already prepped and ready to go. Satisfied, Gibson was already working through the rest of his plan. "Warspite this is Rider Leader, I need to know the departure time."

There was a brief pause before the reply came through. "Rider Leader, doors close in 3 and a half minutes."

Gibson brought up a digital clock on his HUD. "Understood Warspite. Seong, Beyer, follow me. We're going for the Bulldog crews. We have 3 minutes to get this done."

"On it." Seong replied. Beyer was less enthusiastic. "Will do." He replied with noticeable hesitation.

"Let's go!" Gibson ordered as he opened up the throttle on his Battlemaster. The mech responded readily, pounding forward across the hard, rocky ground with Seong's Crusader close behind and Beyer's Bulldogs trailing a little to the rear.

"Gibson, that's an ambush." Max radioed Gibson over a private channel as he manoeuvred his Awesome alongside Melissa's. "Look at the omnimechs we're facing. This is Phantom Wolf's star."

"I know." Gibson replied, unable to keep an edge of excitement out of his voice as he watched a distress flare go up from amongst the burning wrecks ahead of him. "I'm expecting him."

The medevac APCs caught up with Gibson's mixed command as they neared the burning Bulldogs. Screeching to a halt alongside the burning hulks their rear ramps slammed down and the medics stormed out, accompanied by their security escort. At the double the escort formed a perimeter while the stretcher teams started loaded the dead and wounded onto the APCs.

"You have 30 seconds, make it count." Gibson ordered as he searched the horizon for the enemy mechs he knew to be there somewhere. "Seong, Beyer, watch out for…." He was interrupted by the impact of an ER Large Laser burning its way across his Battlemaster's shoulder armour.

"For them?" Seong finished for him as she braced her mech to fire off her last volley of LRMs. Just 400m ahead a Timberwolf and Summoner had dashed out from behind the cover of one of the towering granite pillars and were now charging down upon the small force clustered round the burning Bulldogs. Even through the dust kicked up by their advance, the Timberwolf's distinctive red and blue livery stood out.

"Make that 20 seconds!" Gibson corrected as he brought his PPC up and snapped off a shot at the Summoner, blasting armour from its chest. "Stand your ground, focus on my target."

The Bulldogs' turrets swung round, targeting the Summoner. Ruby laser light cut through the air seeking out the charging Summoner, burning chunks out of its armour. Regardless, the Clan mechwarriors continued to close, firing as they did so. The Timberwolf's arm mounted ER Large Lasers burned two matching tracks of molten armour across the Battlemaster's chest while the Summoner blasted Seong's Crusader with its ER PPC.

"Hold." Gibson shouted across the radio as he returned fire. "Hold." He repeated as he kept one eye on the medevac teams working below him and the other on the charging mechs, picking his moment. "Now." Gibson threw his mech forward, Seong alongside him as they counter charged the Clan mechs. The Summoner's pilot held his course, his Ultra 20 class autocannon belched fire as it spat 155mm shells at Seong, severing her Crusader's left arm at the elbow. Yet in doing so he had allowed the Inner Sphere mechwarriors to get closer than he had intended. Medium laser fire stabbed out, carving out gouges from the Summoner's armour while nearly two dozen SRM flew across the narrowing divide, seeking out weak spots in the mech's hide. More dangerous though was the Inner Sphere mech's fists. Gibson weighed in first, his Battlemaster swinging hard. The Summoner backed up, taking the impacts on its left arm. But, in doing so it ran into Seong who sent a right cross hammering into the mech head. Momentarily stunned, the Summoner crashed to the floor as its pilot blacked out, rear armour crumpling under the impact.

"We've got him!" Seong sounded in triumph as the Summoner fell, moving in yet closer to deliver the killing blow. "This is Panther 3-1, I need immediate assistance!" Beyer's paniced transmission interrupted her as one of the Bulldogs exploded. Taking advantage of Gibson and Seong's preoccupation with the Summoner, the Timberwolf pilot had decided to even the odds by destroying the supporting tanks. Slipping past Gibson he'd taken the nearest Bulldog apart with his lasers and then closed to point blank range to engage with the SRMs his mech carried in place of the usual LRMs. Beyer and his men stood their ground bravely, but it mattered little as the SRMs tore through their armour, in moments two more Bulldogs were on fire, Beyer's one of them.

"Seong finish him. I'll deal with the Timberwolf." Gibson ordered as he dragged his Battlemaster round. "Roger." Seong acknowledged, booting the Summoner in the side as it struggled to its feet.

"Hey you, Phantom Wolf." Gibson taunted the Timberwolf pilot, trying to distract him from pursuing the last Bulldog, now rapidly retiring from the field. Bringing up his PPC arm, he put a blast of manmade lightning into the Timberwolf's back. "I thought you were looking for me?"

The blue and red Timberwolf stopped and turned to face Gibson. "That I am Midnight." He returned fire, a pair of ER Large Laser beams cutting across Gibson's torso armour. "But I didn't want any gate crashers."

"What no challenge." Gibson continued to taunt as he closed the distance, bringing his medium lasers and SRMs into action. "What sort of Clanner are you?" Out the corner of his eye he could see stretcher teams braving the fire to run across to Beyer's burning Bulldogs. He knew he had to keep Phantom Wolf occupied, to buy them time.

"I am a mechwarrior of Clan Wolf." Phantom Wolf replied as he rushed his mech forward, relying upon his SRMs rather than his lasers. "I am a hunter and the honour I gain from killing Samuel Gibson, Midnight, will outweigh any disapproval of my methods."

"Shut up and die." Gibson shot back as a volley of SRMs slammed into his Battlemaster, rocking it on its heels. Pushing through the smoke and fire Gibson returned fire and tried to get grips with his enemy. But Phantom Wolf using his mech's superior speed expertly, nimbly dodging out the way of his comparatively lumbering opponent, keeping himself just out of reach of Gibson's swinging fists. Gibson swore as repeated SRM impacts ate away at his already damaged armour far faster that his own weaponry was wearing down the Timberwolf's. He racked his brains for a solution, but he'd already used up all his reserves. Melissa and Max were stuck in an inconclusive firefight alongside the Schreks and were too far away to help anyway; Seong was likewise stuck in a losing fight with the Summoner. Despite the heavy damage it had already taken, the Summoner's Ultra 20 class autocannon was still working and proving to be an excellent equaliser as it shattered armour plating every time it connected. Gibson put another volley of missiles and laser fire into his enemy while Phantom Wolf's Timberwolf continued to dance just out of reach, returned fire with a devastating volley of SRMs. Gibson's head snapped back as two of the SRMs impacted his armoured canopy. He tasted blood as he fought the controls to keep his mech upright. This wasn't working he knew, he needed to do something to change the situation. He smiled as he realised the solution. "Seong, how are you doing?" He radioed.

"Badly!" Seong replied bluntly as the Summoner tracked 155mm shells across her mechs torso. "Very badly!"

"Go left, turn him." Gibson ordered.

"Turn him?" Seong replied confused, then grinned as she realised what Gibson was getting at. "On it!" She replied as she turned her Crusader and ran to her left, twisting her mechs torso to continue engaging the pursuing Summoner with her medium lasers. Gibson feigned left and then ran to his right, wrong footing his opponent and opening up a small gap between them. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to draw a bead on the Summoner's rear armour. He brought his PPC arm to bear and fired. The blast went wide, striking the Summoner's left arm but missing the vulnerable rear torso. "Damn it." Gibson cursed as he saw Phantom Wolf was already rushing in to close the range and stop him getting off a second shot. Throwing his Battlemaster forward, he feigned another counter charge, forcing his opponent back for just a moment longer. "Come on." Gibson growled though clenched teeth as he rode the impact of another hail of SRMs, waiting for his mech to recover its balance before firing. This time the PPC bolt struck true, smashing through the Summoner's weakened rear armour and detonating its autocannon ammunition. The resulting explosion devastated the mech.

"Great shot Boss!" Seong shouted. "Hold on, I'm on my way."

"Run or die time Clanner." Gibson taunted as he turned his attention back to Phantom Wolf.

"Oh one of us is going to die." Phantom Wolf replied with determination as his SRMs tore into Gibson's armour. Recklessly, he closed into melee range, ignoring his distaste for physical attacks so he could use his Timberwolf's powerful kicks to force a conclusion before Seong could join the duel. Gibson didn't flinch, matching his enemy's movements he lashed out with his mech's battle fists, pounding away at the Timberwolf's upper torso as he sought that killing blow to the head. At such a range the two mechwarriors could hardly miss and the overwhelming firepower on both machines pounding the other into scrap. SRMs tore several of the Battlemaster's medium lasers from their mountings while return fire and swinging fists smashed one of the Timberwolf's shoulder launchers into scrap metal. The Phantom Wolf kicked out again, smashing the last of the armour from the Battlemaster's right leg. But in doing so, he left his Timberwolf off balance, unable to dodge as Gibson lashed out with his left fist, contacting the armoured glass over the Timberwolf's cockpit. The Timberwolf staggered, its pilot stunned momentarily. Gibson stepped in, following up with a right hook that shattered the armoured glass and pulverising the cockpit behind. The Timberwolf remained standing for just a moment, almost as if it would continue the fight without its pilot, then it slumped to the ground, unmoving.

Exhausted, Gibson panted from exertion as his heart raced, sweet running freely down his face. Collecting his wits, he made a quick assessment of his situation. The medevac was complete, the APCs racing back to the Warspite. To his left, Melissa and Max were comfortably holding the remaining Hellbringer and Timberwolf at bay, having already forced the Stormcrow to withdraw. He considered re-joining the fight, but both his and Seong's mechs were effectively out of the fight, their armour smashed and ammunition depleted. The only productive thing to do was to get themselves off the field as quickly as possible before anyone could finish them off. He looked down at the fallen mech at his feet and hesitated, it really did run against the grain to abandon useful salvage on the field. He checked his timer and smiled.

"Seong, get over here and help me drag this."


	18. Chapter 18

Moments after the light lance had made contact, Nick had finally understood why Jenny constantly complained about her mech allocation. It wasn't that his Clint was a bad mech, by Inner Sphere standards it was a solid recon machine. But, against the Clans it was simply too slow to escape pursuit from mechs far more powerful than itself. Case in point, the Stormcrow currently chasing his Clint and Colin's Stinger as they tried to fall back to the Warspite.

Nick flinched as laser light flashed past his cockpit. Gritting his teeth he jinxed to the left, but not fast enough, a second laser blast tore into his mechs right leg, burning a deep grove into his armour. Twisting his torso round Nick let loose a burst of autocannon rounds, only to watch as the shells fell well wide of their mark. There was a knack to effectively engaging a jinxing target at long range, a knack that took a significant amount of practice and no small measure of talent to learn. Nick was starting to get a bad feeling that his opponent possessed that knack and he didn't.

"Stay with us Nick. We're nearly there!" Jenny shouted encouragement as she fought her own battle over to Nick's right. Her Clint jinxed left and right as she engaged a pursuing Adder, matching her PPC against its Large Pulse Laser and Light LB-X Autocannon. Nicole's Javelin ran alongside Jenny's Clint, lacking any long range weaponry she was reduced almost to the status of bystander if not outright target.

"At least let me make an attack run." Nicole requested, frustrated at being unable to contribute to the fight.

"Negative." Jenny replied firmly. The rest of the Clan star was trailing behind their foremost mechs and were currently out of range. However, the two Timberwolves and the accompanying Hellbringer were not significantly slower than Jenny's recon mechs and were not so far behind that they could not easily come to the aid of the Adder or Stormcrow if the Commandos tried to turn on their pursuers. "You'll be cut to pieces."

"Roger." Nicole grumbled as she continued to duck and dive alongside her lance commander. Jenny fired off another PPC blast at the Adder, glad again that there had been time to upgrade her mech's armament. The blast smashed into the Adder but didn't slow it down for even a moment. The Adder returned fire just as Jenny switched directions. The hail of autocannon shells passed harmlessly behind her, but the large pulse laser tracked her easily, pounding her armour as she ran. Jenny risked glancing at her HUD for a moment; searching for Kyle's Stalker Lance and the dubious safety they offered her lance. Just another 50 seconds she estimated, then Kyle would be able to add his guns to hers as they retreated. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Colin's Stinger explode. The Stormcrow had switched targets and the Stinger with its tin foil armour hadn't stood a chance.

"I see a chute." Nick shouted. "Cover me, I'll get him."

"Negative!" Jenny almost shouted across the net, hating herself for giving the order. "You'll never make it, keep falling back."

"But." Nick started to argue, started to turn his mech regardless.

"Get back into line mechwarrior!" Jenny snapped, throwing her fury at the situation into her words. She knew she had to make the order stick then and there, the rest of that heavy star was still bearing down upon them and the Stormcrow was seconds away from reaching Colin's position. Even if Nick could reach Colin, he would never survive long enough to pick up him up. If the rest of the lance tried to cover him they would all die as well. To her relief she saw Nick turn back to his original heading, firing as he did so.

She fought down the desire to explain herself, to make excuses. She was in command and wasting time on that was a luxury she didn't have; besides being in command meant not having to. Twisting round, she snapped off another PPC shot and had the satisfaction of watching the bolt carry away the Adder's right arm. Alarms sounded in her cockpit as the Adder's return fire tore through her mech's rear armour and into the vitals beyond. Ignoring the alarms she toggled her radio.

"Stalker Leader this is Eagle Leader. I'm coming in hot; I've got a full star right behind me."

"I see you Jenny." Kyle replied, the sounds of alarms from his own cockpit audible in the background. "The infantry is clear." There was the sound of a PPC firing and autocannon rounds impacting armour. "Just waiting on you."

"Roger." Jenny acknowledged as more alarms sounded, warning her that her fusion engine was beginning to run dangerously hot; some of the Adder's fire must have damaged the core's shielding. Ahead of her smoke boiled from the ruined shoulder SRM launcher of Kyle's Wolverine as he exchanged long range fire with a Kit Fox. George and Alan's mechs looked hardly any better as they skirmished with a Viper and Ice Ferret, the battered remains of the Clan light binary. The second Valkyrie lay on the ground, burning fiercely.

"Eagle Leader, watch right!" Nick shouted a warning as the Viper broke off from attacking Kyle's mediums and sprinted towards Jenny. Instinctively she kicked her mech's jump jets, throwing her Clint to left as laser fire slashed through the air around her. But, the fire wasn't directed at her. Instead the Viper's pilot focused on Nicole's lighter Javelin, the Clan tech ER medium lasers carving through the Javelin's weak armour protection with ease.

"Damn it." Nicole cursed across the radio. "I'm having him, cover me."

"Go." Jenny replied as she switched targets, firing a bolt of man-made lightning into the speeding Viper. Nicole's Javelin closed rapidly, but the Viper was quicker. Nimbly pulling back, he kept out of range of Nicole's SRMs while pounding her mech with his ER lasers. Meanwhile the Adder took the opportunity to fire at Jenny unopposed, forcing her to switch fire back to her original target.

Caught up in his own running duel Nick was in no position to help. His ammunition counter was already in the yellow and rapidly depleting while the Stormcrow came on as strong as ever. But, he knew something had to be done, he radioed Kyle. "Stalker Leader, we need to close up, can you clear off that Viper so we can rally to you?"

Kyle didn't need to glance at his HUD to know the answer was no. His armour was already critically damaged; it was a minor miracle that his mech was still functioning at all, advancing was practically out of the question. But, that wasn't an answer he was willing to give. "On it. All points rally on me. Alan cover, George with me!" He barked the orders as he threw his mech forward. Firing his PPC into the Kit Fox to keep it off balance, he centred the Viper in his mech's cockpit as he recklessly charged forward. All the enemy pilot needed to do was stand, to stand and unload his weaponry into the badly damaged Wolverine. But, the Viper pilot had already taken a beating from duelling Gibson's Battlemaster earlier and had no interest in staying in what was rapidly developing into a three on one fight. Turning his mech sharply, he withdrew as quickly as he could; content to leave the fight to the heavier mechs coming onto the field.

Taking advantage of the breathing space Kyle's charge had brought them, the 6 remaining mechs of Stalker and Eagle Lances regrouped into a tight semi-circle. It made them an easier target, but it also let them concentrate their remaining firepower more effectively.

"All points, fire on my target, Nicole lead us out of here." Jenny took charge as the combined formation ran for the safety of their dropship. Harassed every step of the way by the remaining light and medium Clan mechs, the Commando mechwarriors none the less kept their formation tight, focusing their fire on any enemy mech that approached too closely. It brought them space and it brought them time. But, they knew the Clan heavy mechs were right on their heels and they dared not let up the pace.

"I'm in contact with the Warspite." Nicole reported excitedly. "They are still in the fight." Ahead the Commando's perimeter had contracted as the dropship prepared to take off. Only Melissa, Max and the 3 Schreks remained in the fight, laying down volley after volley of PPC fire as they kept a narrow corridor clear for the retreating medium and light mechs.

"I'm out." Nick reported as he fired off the last burst from his autocannon.

"Nick, Nicole make for the dropship." Jenny ordered. "We'll cover." As the fleeter light mechs pulled away from the mediums, it left just 4 mechs to cover the rear, facing an equal number of Clan mechs.

"You should go too." Kyle suggested. "You've got next to no armour left."

Jenny didn't need telling, she had already deactivated the alarm designed to tell her exactly that. "Neither have you. Shut up and keep firing!" She barked her response with more venom than intended, she had already left one mechwarrior behind today, she wasn't about to let it happen again.

Despite himself, Kyle laughed out loud. "You heard the Captain. Keep firing you bastards." He radioed the order to his lance.

"Roger that!" George and Alan shouted in reply, taking confidence from their lieutenant's bombastic outburst. Redoubling their effort they added their fire to Kyle and Nicole's, catching the Kit Fox off guard their fire severed its right foot, sending the mech crashing to the ground. But, they couldn't lay down enough fire to keep all their enemies at bay simultaneously. Laser fire continued to slice through the air around them, burning away armour plating and cutting into vulnerable internals. Alan's Wolverine shuddered for a moment and then exploded, its SRM ammo touched off in a catastrophic explosion.

"No chute!" George shouted, even as his own mech came under renewed fire.

"400m to home." Jenny replied, doing her best to keep her voice level. "Keep going."

"I just lost my PPC!" Kyle radioed then swore loudly, realising his mech was now defenceless.

"I think I have a problem here." George reported across the net with surprising calm. Smoke boiled from the numerous rents in his torso armour as another volley of laser fire slammed into his mech. He stumbled, righted himself and then overbalanced, the 55ton war machine crashing to the ground.

Jenny swore and swung her mech round, laying down covering fire with her PPC as she tried to draw fire away from the downed Wolverine. Momentarily forgetting that his mech was effectively disarmed, Kyle ran to George's aid. In a heartbeat the retreat had stalled a mere 200m from safety. Sensing blood, the Stormcrow and Mist Lynx rushed forward, eager to claim kills against the enemy that had eluded them for so long. Even as George's Wolverine climbed to its feet, he and Kyle were pounded by laser fire, inflicting yet more critical damage on their mechs. Focused on making the kill, the Stormcrow pressed in closer still, only to suddenly reel back as a trio of PPC bolts smashed into its chest armour.

"Stop fucking about and get on the fucking dropship!" Melissa swore liberally as her Awesome advanced out of the dust kicked up by the battle and hit the Stormcrow with another volley, smashing it clean off its feet. She ignored the rapidly climbing heat in her cockpit as she physically interposed her assault mech between the Stormcrow and its targets. "I said move, goddamn it!"

As Jenny, George and Kyle made for the Warspite, Max advanced to join Melissa. While she focused on driving off the Stormcrow, he engaged the Timberwolf and Hellbringer from the fallen Phantom Wolf's star, taking heavy fire in return. "I don't think they are very happy with us." He commented flippantly.

"Good." Melissa shot back, confident the Stormcrow had had enough, she switched targets to the Timberwolf. "Focus on the Hellbringer. I've got the Timberwolf." She ordered tensely; sweat forming on his brow as her cockpit's temperature continued to rise with every volley. "Fall back to the dropship."

Steadily Melissa and Max fell back towards the Warspite. The Clan mechwarriors pounded them with missiles and PPC fire, but the two veteran pilots kept their nerve and gave as good as they got, laying down a rolling barrage of PPC fire. Blasted and scorched, their armour was in tatters as they made it to the Warspite's loading ramp. Ignoring the warning alarms, ignoring the damage alerts they steadily backed up the ramp firing as they went. The ramp started to rise before they made it the whole way up, their mech's gyros working overtime to keep them upright, still firing at the pursuing enemy mechs. At last they made it into the mechbay, the ramp slamming shut moments later. Melissa allowed herself a sigh of relief. She was about to start issuing orders when the ship's tannoy squawked and Captain Gerald's voice reverberated through the bulkheads.

"All hands, brace for immediate combat acceleration!"

Deep below them, in the bowls of the dropship, the Warspite's great engines fired.


	19. Chapter 19

Gerald felt the resulting acceleration push him back into his command couch as the Warspite lifted off from the planet's surface. The whole ship seemed to vibrate as the massive fusion reactor that made up the Warspite's heart unleashed the titanic energies needed to lift all 9,700tons of her vertically upwards. Gerald gripped the arm rests of his couch tightly, an old trick to avoid showing nerves, as he watched the altimeter slowly climb mentally willing it to climb faster. With all the land forces now embarked, Warspite was the only target left and was suffering badly under the undivided attention of the Clan mechwarriors. Already several areas of her armour where showing breaches and it was only a matter of time until something important was damaged.

"Maximum acceleration Mrs Danvers!" Gerald had to shout to be heard over the roar of the engines and the sound of weapons fire reverberating through the hull.

"This is all she's got!" His helmswoman shouted back.

Gerald activated the ship's intercom. "Bridge to Engineering, put everything into the engines, we need more thrust."

"Reactor is already at 100% output." Chief Verner's harassed voice shouted back down the intercom.

"I don't care what burns out!" Gerald barked. "We need more power now!"

"Aye Sir, setting reactor to 110%." Chief Verner replied. "I am ordering my crew to take cover."

Gerald didn't reply, his eyes were fixed on the main screen where one of the enemy omnifighters had broken away from the swirling dogfight and was hurtling towards the Warspite.

"Helm, roll starboard 70 degrees." Gerald ordered, trying to put the strongest remaining armour in front of their attacker. "Defensive batteries kill that fighter."

The Warspite's autocannon's spat shell after shell at the incoming omnifighter, tracer rounds screaming into the sky. But, the nimble Avar proved an elusive target. Snap rolling to the right it avoiding the worst of the first burst before sending a PPC bolt smashing into the Warspite's flank. Jinxing to the left it dodged the second burst as its pilot fired his afterburners. He closed to point blank range before unleashing his full firepower, pounding the Warspite with PPC bolts, laser fire and missiles.

"Hull breach, decks 2 and 3!" Ensign Leopold reported as the Avar hurtled past the Warspite, climbing for another attack run. "We can't take another hit like that!"

"Keep firing, we're not done yet." Gerald shouted without tearing his eyes away from the main screen where a second Avar was lining up for its attack run. "Roll 180!" He ordered.

The Avar grew larger as it jinxed between the tracer fire, firing upon the Warspite with its ER PPC as it did so.

"Where the hell are my aerospace fighters!" Gerald demanded as the Avar drew ever closer. Another PPC bolt smashed into the Warspite violently tearing away hull plating as the Avar pushed closer, into point blank range. Then, suddenly it turned away, dived hard to its left as laser fire chased it through the clouds, a Corsair right on its tail.

"Gareth, we've got to keep these bastards away from the Warspite." Sigurd radioed his wingman as he tried to line up a killing shot on the fleeing Avar. His 'lock on' alarm screamed in his ear as a PPC bolt streaked past his cockpit. Instinctively Sigurd jerked the control stick up as he kicked the rudder pedal to the right. The Corsair's airframe groaned as it dragged itself out of its dive and violently skewed round to the right. Caught out by the unconventional manoeuver, the pursuing Avar shot past Sigurd, temporarily out of range and far below him.

Narrowly avoiding entering a flat spin, Sigurd fought his controls as he dragged his aerospace fighter back into a climb, firing his after burners to regain lost altitude. Rapidly he scanned through his sectors, trying to reorientate himself. He picked out his wingman chasing off an attacking Avar, unaware of another sneaking up behind him.

"Got one on your tail!" Sigurd shouted a warning as his own 'lock on' alarm sounded again, his pursuer had recovered faster than he had hoped. "Weave, weave, weave!" he ordered without hesitation as he turned his aerospace fighter toward his wingman, Gareth likewise turned towards Sigurd. Firing his afterburners Gareth pulling ahead, passing in front of Sigurd's fighter and setting up the pursuing Avar for a straightforward deflection shot. Sigurd fired a twin laser blast into the Avar, not enough to kill it but enough to convince it to dive away. No soon had he cleared his wingman's tail then Sigurd turned sharply back to his left, Gareth simultaneously banking and turning to his right. The Avar pursuing Sigurd easily kept up with the turn, cutting inside to close the range further. Missiles leapt from the Avar's launcher, streaking after Sigurd, smashing into the armour protecting his engine. However, in pressing for the kill shot the Avar had strayed in front of Gareth's lasers. Belatedly the Clan pilot realised his mistake, but too late as Gareth pounded the light omnifighter, blowing its right wing clean off.

"Good kill, good kill!" Sigurd shouted in triumph. "Same again, follow my lead."

Again and again the Corsairs weaved back and forth, drawing a loose, protective figure 8 above the Warspite. Each time an Avar got into the tail of one of the Corsairs they quickly found their target's wingman already hurtling towards them, lasers hot. When they tried ignoring the escorting fighters and targeted the Warspite they always found a Corsair in position to dive down upon them. Time and time again the thin skinned Avars were forced to turn away from their targets to avoid destruction while the tougher Corsairs weathered the storm sent their way. One by one the Avars were forced to concede defeat and return to base, their small fuel tanks depleted. At length only one remained, orbiting around the steadily climbing Warspite, just outside weapons range. For a moment he looked like he'd make one last attack run before dipping his wings in salute to a worthy opponent and then diving for home.

"Warspite, this is Drake Leader." Sigurd reported as he levelled off and throttled back to conserve what little fuel he had left. "That's the last of them; I'm breaking for orbit."

"Roger that Drake Leader thanks for assist."

"What we're here for Warspite." Sigurd replied as he pulled his fighter's nose up and started climbing again. For a moment he drew level with the scared and battered hull of the Warspite. Evidently she had suffered terribly; smoke billowed from numerous breaches in her armoured hide, yet her engines still burned as she clawed her way into the sky and the safety of space beyond. They were level for just a moment before Sigurd's fighter shot by her, leaving the atmosphere behind with Gareth close behind. Cutting their engines back to idle, Sigurd and Gareth drifted as their sensors updated their HUDs.

"No contacts on screen." Gareth commented. "Only drive plumb registering must be the Furious, nothing else can be close enough."

Sigurd didn't immediately reply as he enjoyed the sensation of zero gravity and the peacefulness of the empty space in front of him that contrasted so much with the manic last twenty minutes. "Copy that, I think we're done here." Behind him the Warspite finally broke through Mortiz's atmosphere and entered orbit. "You dock first, I'll follow." Sigurd ordered as he gentle manoeuvred his fighter in line with the Warspite's hanger bay. "Let's go home."


	20. Chapter 20

13th June 3051

Planet: Maestu

A storm was brewing as a green jeep bounced down a dirt track running through the countryside of the Planet Maestu. Drizzle coated the windscreen while black clouds hung ominously overhead. Max was driving, with Gibson in the passenger seat next to him while Kyle dozed in the back.

"Recruitment's going steady." Max made conversation as he drove. "But the quality is wanting, they are either very green or…" he trailed off as he looked for a polite way of putting it.

"Angry, desperate and/or discipline cases." Gibson bluntly finished for him. "Sign them up; get Melissa to drill them until their eyes bleed." For the tenth time this journey he placed his hand over his combat jacket, checking the slim folder was still held securely in place beneath it. "We need mechwarriors that will stand and fight, everything else we can teach them."

"Major Vaughn is being somewhat over selective. The infantry won't be up to anything approaching full strength." Max said disapprovingly.

"It's her battalion; she knows what she's doing." Gibson replied levelly. "Her troopers don't have 10+ tons of armour protecting them, if she wants experience rather than numbers let her. We've filled plenty of body bags already."

Max nodded grimly. "We're also have problems with sourcing replacement mechs. Market's full of hand me down light mechs and hulks straight off the scrap heap, but little in the way of quality. Same problem with aerospace fighters, Yurika's recruiting pilots, but can't get useful spaceframes."

Gibson frowned, crossing his arms in annoyance as he thought. "Pick up any of the hulks that might be useful, get Tzu's input he's good at spotting what's fixable and what isn't. I'll get onto command, see if they can pull some strings for us. If they don't I'll threaten to withhold their share of the salvage till they do. The freighter picking it up's not due until next week is it?"

"That's right; it's the same flight that Jenny's taking." Max replied.

Gibson nodded. "Make sure she hands over properly to Nicole before she leaves."

"You know Nicole doesn't want the lance command." Max commented.

"Tough." Gibson replied sharply. "She's one of the few light mech pilots left and the only one who's not had a mech shot out from under her. We've already disbanded Hawk lance for lack of mechwarriors and mechs. I need at least one recon lance operational and I need an experienced pilot leading it. She's it, there is no one else."

"We probably should have worked harder on keeping the officer we had." Max tried to make the comment sound offhand.

"She wanted to go and I wasn't going to stop her." Gibson replied firmly with a hint of irritation, it wasn't the first time they had had this conversation. "She only agreed to work with us until she had the chance to return to her own unit. She honoured her word, I'm honouring mine."

"I suppose." Max capitulated more than agreed.

"Suppose nothing." Gibson replied badly temperedly. Reaching into the glove compartment he dragged the map out and angrily unfolded it. After checking their position he lent back and shook Kyle's shoulder. "Wake up, we're here."

The track rose gently as they climbed the flat topped hill ahead of them. Cresting the slope they saw a black SUV awaiting them on the far side of the hill. Max brought their jeep to a halt and looked across to Gibson.

"I'll keep the engine running."

"He's not going to try anything." Gibson replied as he checked his pistol was free in its holster. Behind him Kyle was checking the charge on his rifle and extending the stock. "Not with Lieutenant Zhao's platoon camped half a mile back anyway, I'd imagine he's noticed that."

"I imagine he has." Max replied. "Still..." He cocked his pistol before returning it to its holster. "…pays to be careful."

In silence Gibson and Kyle climbed out of the jeep and walked towards the SUV. Gibson walked in front, Kyle just behind holding his rifle protectively across his body. Ahead of them the SUV stopped and two figures got out. The first wore a Fed Com issue greatcoat with an officer's hat, the second wore a poncho and carried an submachine gun. The two groups advanced to meet each other between their vehicles. The escorts stopped 100m apart while the two senior officers met in the middle.

"Colonel." Gibson tersely greeted Percival.

"Major." Percival returned the greeting neutrally. "Do you have the documents with you?"

"I do." Gibson slowly unzipped his jacket and pulled out the folder, noting Percival's escort tense up ever so slightly as he did so. Without further explanation he offered the folder to Percival who took it and slipped it into the folds of his greatcoat.

"I assume you've tried to decode it. What do you make of it?" Percival asked.

Gibson weighed up his options and decided to go for honesty. "We can't break the code, but the consensus is that it's a list of enemy troop movements. Potentially part of the invasion plans or at least the build-up to the invasion. That's supported by how we acquired it and how hard the enemy fought to get it back." He said, careful to maintain an emotionless façade. "But, I don't believe that."

"You don't." Percival prompted, keeping a neutral expression while simultaneously examining Gibson closely for signs of dishonesty.

"No, that conclusion was drawn up by those ignorant of our 'other' orders. I think those are our troop movements and Comstar has been passing them on to the Clans. I think that was the evidence you sent me chasing after." Gibson watched Percival's reaction closely as he consciously stopped his right hand for moving to his holster.

Percival considered his words carefully before replying. "It is what we suspect; there have been a few too many coincidences lately, a few too many raids intercepted before they began."

"So what do we do now?" Gibson asked.

"You do nothing." Percival replied firmly. "We will change our codes, we'll take this news into account when planning ops and generally take advantage of the fact they don't know that we know what they are up to. But we cannot afford a war with both Comstar and the Clans at the same time, so we will do nothing directly and neither will you. How many of your men know?"

"A handful of the officers, no-one else." Gibson replied.

Again Percival paused as he considered his options. "Keep it that way. This is above top secret; if it leaks I will have you all up on treason charges. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Gibson replied, then hesitated. He hated to ask for favours, particularly from Percival. But, he also felt he was owed one. "I need something from you."

"What?" Percival asked suspiciously.

"I lost half my mech strength chasing that folder." Gibson stated coldly. "Most of my tanks and a lot of our aerospace fighters as well. I need replacements, good ones, not the cast offs I'm being offered."

"I'm surprised you're already looking to go back out there." Percival seemed genuinely surprised at the request. "After that blood bath I was expecting you to ask to be rotated off the front lines and given some nice cushy garrison duty on the other side of the galaxy." His voice changed slightly, almost becoming concerned. "Have you not seen enough blood yet Major?"

"There is still a war on." Gibson replied bluntly. "Clanners to be killed."

Percival nodded. "I'll see what can be done." He turned to leave, then hesitated for a moment. "For what it's worth Major, you've likely saved a lot of lives with this intel."

Gibson didn't reply, he just nodded in acknowledgement before turning and walking back towards his jeep.

"Do I want to know what all that was about?" Kyle asked as Gibson reached him.

"No you don't." Gibson replied. "Just that we're not going to be shot by our own side today." He smirked when he saw Kyle's worried expression. "Don't worry about it. Let's get back to base; we've got work to do."


End file.
